


Elite

by Signe_chan



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: AU: Play in a lower league, Alternate Universe, EIHL, First Meetings, M/M, Not the NHL, Slow Burn, Sports, UK ice hockey, unsucessful suicide attempt of a minor character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2019-06-10 20:56:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 86,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15299859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Signe_chan/pseuds/Signe_chan
Summary: Sidney Crosby isn't a bad hockey player. He's had a good career, played across the AHL, even managed to play a few games in the NHL. The thing is, that career is coming to an end and, facing down a future without hockey, Sid finds himself making one last signing and flying over to the UK to spent a few years in the Elite League while he earns a degree.He expects to play hard, get some coaching experience, and let his career fizzle out from under him. He doesn't expect Geno.





	1. Prologue

Sid turned up ten minutes early to Pat’s office but ended up sat in the waiting room playing angry birds on his phone for a good twenty minutes before they called him in. He’d thought he’d heard Matt Duchene at one point and he’d put the phone down, craning his head, but he hadn’t been able to see and he didn’t want to be rude so he’d sat back down. 

He knew he was insanely lucky to have the same agent as Matt Duchene. That he was insanely lucky that a guy like Pat had kept him on his books all these years. Sure, Sid often spoke to people lower down in the office food chain when he called but it was one hell of a bargaining tool. 

Not that he did the bargaining, that was Pat’s job. 

He was half way through a level when the door opened. He jerked up to find the secretary stood there smiling at him knowingly. 

“Mr Crosby, Mr Brisson will see you now.” 

“Thanks, Carla,” Sid said, standing quickly and jamming his phone into his suit pocket. He hated wearing suits, he wished he could have taken the meeting in his shorts. He was under strict orders not to, though, and he knew better than to argue with Taylor. 

He follow Carla through, trying subtly to wipe his hands, and when he got to the office Pat stood, beaming. “Sid,” he said, coming round the desk, hand held out. “So good to see you. Come in, sit down.” 

“Thank,” Sid said, returning the handshake. 

“Sit, sit,” Pat said, smiling and gesturing and Sid fumbled for the chair. He always felt so ungainly here in Pat’s environment, it was a good thing he didn’t have to be here often. He kind of wished he could make Pat come out to meet him on the ice. Maybe if he was Matt Duchene he’d be able to do that, or one of the many guys Pat represented who’d actually made it. 

“Thanks for seeing me,” Sid said, wringing his hands on his lap. He wished he’d kept his phone out to hold on to but that’d be rude. 

“Of course, Sid. I know you’ve been talking with, Jason, is it?” Sid nodded. He’d never actually met Jason but they’d had a number of conversations over the past few months, coming up to the end of Sid’s contract. 

“I’ve read through all his notes, of course,” Pat said, nodding at a folder on his desk. “He says that your main aim at this point is to stay in the AHL.” 

“Definitely,” Sid agreed. He realised he was still wringing his hands and made himself stop, moving them to the arm rest and gripping that instead. “I mean, I know the Rocket haven’t exactly had a season to remember but I’m a good player. I gave them a lot, put a lot into mentoring some of the younger guys. I appreciate I didn’t get as much ice time at I might have towards the end of the season…” 

“I know, Sid,” Pat said, and there was something pitying in his voice. Sid hated that. He wished he wasn’t so damn familiar with it. 

“I just, hockey’s my life, you know.” 

“I know, Sid. But, you know, you’re 30 now.” 

“30’s not that old.” 

“It’s not that young either, Sid. Not in this game. I mean, at this point, we’ve gotta admit that you’re never going to play in the NHL again, right? When were you last called up?” 

“Four years ago, I guess. When I was with the Americans, the Sabres called me up twice.” Which might have been more impressive if it wasn’t twice in two years. Still, he’d liked the Americans. He’d worked hard and he’d been proud to get called up. It’d been to cover illness and he’d come right back down but he’d been the guy they’d called. 

The Canadiens had never called. It hurt, especially to hear Pat say it, but he had more or less accepted that he wasn’t going to get called up again. There was still space for a guy like him on an AHL roster, though. A guy to mentor, to fill in spaces, to be a calm and collected presence in the room. He’d tried to show that with the Rockets. He’d spent some time shadowing the coach, told him he was thinking about coaching and he was, just not yet. Some day. 

“I can maybe get you into the AHL,” Pat says with a worn-out sigh. “I’m not making any promises, Sid. But I might be able to do it. But you’re going to have to recognise that, if I do, you’re going to have to take significantly less money and they’ll probably not play you. You’ll be the guy they bring in every few months to remind everyone else what happens if you don’t make the big show. Do you want that?” 

“I like to think I’m still worth more than that,” Sid said. His voice wavered. 

“I’m afraid the AHL won’t see it that way. You know I believe in you, Sid. I promised to always look out for you and I have, haven’t I?” 

“You have,” Sid agreed. He’d probably have ended his career with the Chicago Wolves if Pat hadn’t fought for him. After he’d been traded from the Penguins for what they ended up feeling was more than he was worth on the back of a few good games they’d done everything in their power to destroy him but Pat had stuck with him, through every disappointment and setback. “I just… what have I got if I haven’t got the AHL, Pat?” 

“Hey, don’t be like that. You’ve got options. Your career doesn’t end here, Sid. We’ve just got to admit that it’s heading towards some kind of end and, well, that you’re going to have to look outside the AHL.” 

Sid looked down at his hands. Outside the AHL meant giving up on the NHL and, no matter what he’d said, some part of him hadn’t done that. If he could just stay in the AHL, maybe things would change. He worked so hard, he’d worked so hard all his life. All he wanted was to play hockey. Surely, something’d come together for him. 

But, then, maybe this was something coming together for him. 

“There are options?” 

“There are.” Pat visibly relaxed and it twisted Sid’s gut. “So, there are two options I want you to really think about. The first is Germany. Their top league, a team called the Ausburger Panther. I’ve talked to the head coach there, sent a few guys over before. He’s looking for a guy who can be a mentor in the North American system for some kids he’s got coming up. It won’t be a lot of ice time, I’ve gotta tell you Sid. It’ll be fourth line centre, they might even move you to the wing, and it’s for a year. But if you’re thinking of coaching in the next couple of years, it might not be a bad place to start. Not much money, though.” 

Sid was thinking about coaching, he was, but not yet. Honestly, that sounded like more of the same rubbish in a different city. More games watched away from the ice. More living through the glory of others. 

“What’s the other option?” 

“So, hear me out. I think, Sid, if you’re not really willing to quit playing yet, this is the option I’d recommend. If you want to push for something else I’ll do everything I can for you, Sid. You know I will. But listen.” 

“I’m listening,” Sid said. His hands seem to have tangled in each other again. He wasn’t going to like this. 

“The offer’s in England.” 

“England? They have ice hockey?” 

“They do,” Pat said, and he didn’t seem to be joking. “I mean, I’m not going to lie to you Sid, they’re not the best league, but they’re probably not as bad as you’re thinking. Their national team just got promoted to the elite division at worlds and they caused a bit of an upset up the European Champion’s League this year. One of their teams got into the final 16.” 

“Okay,” Sid said, slowly. “So, they’re not terrible.” 

“They’re not,” Pat agreed. “A guy I know, Paul, he’s going over there this season to coach with a team called the Liverpool Liver.” 

Liver – lie-ver. What the hell was that? 

“What the hell is a Liver?” 

“I honestly don’t know, Sid. I didn’t ask. What you do need to know is that this team, they’re pretty bad. They came bottom of the league over there this year, but the club’s gone to new owners and there’s money. Paul’s been built in for a rebuild and that’s why he reached out to me. They want to rejuvenate the club. They want to do something big, to cause an upset, so they want some guys from the NHL. 

“You go to Germany, you’re nobody. You go to England, you play well, we’re talking face of the franchise, Sid. We’re talking local hockey hero. We’re talking kids with your shirt, maybe even your number getting retired if you stick with the club. 

“Now, I’m not going to lie and say it won’t be a step down pay-wise, but you’re looking at that anyway Sid and there’s a sweetener with England. They’re offering a university deal. They’ve got something worked out with a local university so you go over there and you sign for three years. You study through the week and you play at the weekend and, in the end, you actually have your degree.” 

Going back to college, that was something he’d wanted. He’d considered it at the start of his career, playing college hockey for a few years to build to the AHL but they’d wanted him right away and it’d just never seemed the time. 

And now he could. Now he could maybe go back, get an education. Now he could maybe play the hockey he wanted. Face of the franchise, that had to be front line centre. It had to be. 

If he played well. 

No prestige, of course. What would any of his old buddies care if he was front line centre on a team nobody had heard of in a country that didn’t care? But he’d be playing hockey. He’d be out there on the ice. He’d be making a difference. 

“Can I see the deals?” Sid asked. “I’ll need to look them over, of course.” 

“Of course,” Pat agreed. He grabbed two folders, held them out. Sid opened them, the German offer was on top and he shuffled it to the bottom, opened the other. It was going to be a pay but, but the club provided housing and there was the college deal…

“I’m going to have to think about it,” Sid said, letting the folder fall shut. “It’ll be a big change. I’ve gotta talk to my dad, my sister.” 

“Of course,” Pat said, smiling. “Take the time you need, Sid. We all want what’s best for you.” 

“Yeah,” Sid said, running his finger over the folder again. “What’s best for me.”


	2. Saturday 18th August

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sid arrives in Liverpool and meets his new team.

**Saturday 18th August**

Sid sat in his car for a second, staring out at the ice rink. It could be worse. Sure, the place looked run down; its cladding was worn, its exposed concrete walls stained with years of rain and snow so that not even the early morning light could make them beautiful, but there was a giant team banner hanging along the side of it – Liverpool Liver in purple and a pale green, then the logo at the end. He guessed that was a Liver. It was some kind of bird with a hockey stick clutched in its beak. The banner was new, bright, unworn. 

The rink might not be great, but the spirit was here. That was the most important thing. 

There were a few other cars in the lot but nobody came out to greet him as he grabbed his gear. That was okay, that was normal. This was the first ice time they team had this year, they hadn’t even done physicals yet and Sid knew the team would be rolling in over the weekend for training camp on the Monday. He’d considered getting here later himself, managing a few more days at home with his family, a few more days of Taylor, fresh out of college and with no idea what she was going to do next. Of his mom’s gentle concern and his dad’s surly certainly that Sid was doing the wrong thing, that if he’d just toughed it out in the AHL for one more year things would have turned around, that he’d make the NHL. 

There was a reason he was here on the first day of training camp. 

The front office of the rink was empty, a large sign declaring this a private session. He had to climb over a barrier to get through and then he was opening a door and stepping into the rink. 

The room was large, cavernous even, and reminded him vaguely of a million other practice rinks he’d been on in his time. He dropped his bag and walked up to the glass, putting his hand against it. There were a few guys on the ice, taking lazy shots at an empty net, but they hadn’t noticed him yet. 

He let himself stop. Let himself take a deep breath. The rink air was dry and calming on his throat, and he felt more settled in his skin. This was still the same, even in England. The rubber mats on the floor were the same, the way the space echoed when nearly empty was the same, the sound of skates on the ice. His skates soon, on his ice. 

This was going to be home. He was going to make it his home. He was going to do thing here, great things. The things he’d always known he could do, the things he’d thought of doing in the NHL. 

Maybe getting his name on the Stanley Cup had only ever been a pipe dream but he could sure as hell win a trophy here, in a half-decrepit barn in England. 

And if he couldn’t...

“Crosby?” 

He turned, taking a quick step back from the glass. A man was watching, older, wearing ratty jeans and a misshapen polo shirt. Sid grinned, stepping forward and holding out his hand. 

“Coach, how are you?” 

“About the same as when I dropped you off last night. Didn’t think we’d see you out this early, thought you’d be sleeping off the flight.” 

“Nah, I came here to skate.” 

Coach snorted like that was something he’d heard a million times before and learnt to be sceptical of. A puck smashed into the glass, neither of them flinched, though Coach turned slowly to look out. Sid followed his gaze and found one of the guys on the ice waving at them. He was skating without a lid, curly red hair hanging down around his shoulders. 

“Callum,” Coach said, long-suffering. “You’ll get to know him. He’s a good kid. Might end up on your line, depending on how things fall out. He’s got a shot, I think. To do something good.” 

“Which wing?” 

“Left. Keep an eye on him, Crosby.” 

“Will do,” Coach,” Sid said, letting himself smile a little. The kid turned back and went sailing off down the ice. Not a bad speed to say he wasn’t really trying. He turned a few circles around the other guy, who was collecting pucks from the net, then grabbed a puck, took it off to the corner. He handling was okay, nothing about it that wasn’t improvable. 

Maybe not what Sid was used to playing with, but this was only a warmup. Not even that. 

The door to the rink clattered open and a few loud Canadian voices drifted in. Sid took the chance to grab his gear again and walk himself round to the locker rooms. The kid buzzed past him on the ice a few more times and Sid waved at him. Never hurt to be off to a good start. 

The locker room was, well, it did its job. Just. Nobody had put names on the stalls yet so Sid claimed one near the door and changed into his gear. His pads were still a little beat up from the end of last season, he’d have to get the equipment guy to have a look at them when he had a minute. His skates had been sharpened since he’d last been on the ice and he let himself run his finger down them, feeling the bite of the edge. God, he’d missed them. Missed this. He’d trained over the summer, hooked up with a few guys back home and run, lifted weights, got a little ice time in, but it wasn’t the same as suiting up with your team. Stepping out into your ice. 

There were no jerseys waiting so he didn’t bother. Pads and Skates on, stick in his hand, he made his way over to the tunnel and let himself out, walking down it for the first time and out onto his ice. 

The guy down by the net had collected up the pucks and was systematically chipping them into the back of the net again. Sid swung by, gave him a wave. The guy looked at him but didn’t stop what he was doing, his hands moving almost unconsciously to flip the pucks into the net. He was wearing jersey though, light green with a purple mascot in the middle, and a C on his chest. 

Sid stopped next to him, carefully and neatly. The guy didn’t flinch, just carried on flipping the pucks in. 

He could definitely hit an empty net at least and, well, that was a start. 

“Hey, I’m Sid. Crosby. I’m Sidney Crosby.” 

“Great,” the guy said. One more puck. Two. “Nick Williams.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Sid said. The guy grunted. For a second, Sid thought about tackling him. Stealing the puck right off his stick and running away with it. It wasn’t the most mature thing, more the kind of thing he’d have done to some kid who thought he was tough shit now that he’d made it to the AHL, but this guy...

Before it could do it though the kid stopped by them, spraying Sid with ice. Sid raised an eyebrow at him but the kid just grinned, unrepentant. 

“Hey. Callum, right?” 

“Yeah,” the kid grinned. “Everyone calls me The Engine, though. Because I drive this fucking team.” 

“Nobody calls him that,” Nick said, still not stopping his shooting. He was running low on pucks at least.

“You don’t know that. You don’t know everything about me.” 

“Just drop it, kid. It’s not going to happen. He’s Callum Engels. One of our under 23 Brits.” 

“Your what?” 

“League rules. Or suggestion, whatever. Teams are meant to have three young Brits on their rosters,” Callum grinned. “So you get me. And a couple of other guys, though most of them spend their seasons in the NIHL.” 

“That’s your second league, right?” Sid asked. Callum nodded, then stuck his stick out quickly, intercepting one of Nick’s shots. He settled the puck on his stick, circled a few imaginary defence men then took a shot on goal, dropping to one knee and pumping the air. It’d have been pretty impressive if the puck had actually gone in, but Sid laughed anyway while Nick sighed. 

“God, don’t encourage him, he’ll never stop doing it. He’s a decent player, can be inventive on the ice, but damn that kid’s not good at knowing what’s appropriate.” 

“It’s just a little fun,” Sid said, suddenly desperate to defend the kid. “There’s hardly anyone here yet, and practice hasn’t really started.” 

“You think that, but he’ll try that shit in a game and end up on his ass with the puck in the wrong net. He’s got a temper on him, too. Picked a fight with Gagnion down in Nottingham last year and we had to peel him off the ice. Kid’s too young.” 

“Then why play him?” 

“You think we’ve got much choice?” 

“I mean, I guess I didn’t think about it.” They had to have some choice, right? They had enough money that they were getting players in from America. His salary, when you counted them paying for his school, and giving him a house and car and shit, was pretty decent. Why wouldn’t people want to play for them? “But, like, you’re a decent team, right? You’re in the top league...” 

“Only because we can’t fucking go down. You get that, right? Someone’s explained to you that we’re not a good team. “

“I’ve looked at the stats and things but it’s a new season. You’ve got a new coach, new guys. It’s basically an entire new team.” 

“Yeah, just like every year,” Nick grunted. He hit the last puck, sending it into the net. “And every year, somehow, we end up at the fucking bottom. I mean, let’s be real here, our aim this year is to not be a fucking disgrace. Last year, a fan spit on my fucking car. A fan! I can’t...” 

He trailed of, swung his stick idly in front of himself like he was waiting for another puck to appear. Sid watched him, wishing that he was anywhere else. Callum was still tearing around the rink, a puck on his stick, grinning. Sid wished he was with him. At least he didn’t seem to have written the entire season off already. Sid got that things had been bad here but...

He couldn’t let this guy get to him, this attitude. It was a new team, a new start. What did Nick know? Pat had sent him here and he wouldn’t have sent him here for no reason. 

“Hey,” Callum shouted, and when Sid glanced over he sent a puck slamming down the ice. It was a good shot, a lot of power behind it, and this time it did make the net. “Better than Ovechkin.” 

Sid laughed. “Sure, Kid. Why not. He your hero, Ovechkin?” 

“Nah, gotta be Jager. You were drafted by the Pens, right? You ever meet him?” 

“No luck,” Sid said, shrugging. “I met Lemieux once, in passing. And I played against the Pens.” 

“Sweet. That was for Buffalo, right?” Callum had drifted closer, so Sid didn’t have to shout his entire CV down the ice. The kid had obviously googled him and actually remembered what he’d read and that was pretty flattering. He got the idea that Callum wasn’t the best when it came to concentration. 

“Yeah. I played two games for them. One against the Pens and one against the Preds.” 

“You score any goals?” 

“Ha, no. But I got an assist in the Pens game.” 

“Sweet,” Callum said, easing himself to a stop next to Nick. “Pretty impressive, right Nick? He’s really played in the NHL.” 

“The Storm have Rosehill again, he’s got over a hundred games with the Leaves and the Flyers.” 

“Yeah, well, fuck the Flyers,” Callum grumbled. He shoved off, heading to the net and grabbing a puck. “And fuck the fucking Manchester Storm.” 

There was a laugh from the tunnel and a clattering of equipment. Sid looked over and the guys he’d seen earlier were heading out onto the ice. They were all in pads without jerseys like him and he just about managed to not breath a literal sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure how much more of Nick’s pessimism he could have taken. 

“Hey,” he yelled, raising his hand to wave at them. One of them stopped and waved back, the other two were too busy shoving at each other. Nick grunted, then headed to the net, presumable to collect his pucks. Sid shrugged and made his way to the tunnel. 

“Hey,” he said, pulling to a stop. “I’m Sid.” 

“Dylan,” the one who wasn’t fighting said. He stepped out onto the ice, stretching a little. “Man, this place is bad. I mean, my agent told me not to expect a lot but... I mean, it’s a wage, right?” 

“Eh, it’s not that bad.” 

“Come on, be real. It’s that bad.” Dylan grinned. “But, easy money. Low expectations and shit and why not come over here and enjoy it for a year before settling down into the family business, you know.” 

“Oh, for sure,” Sid said, fighting the swooping feeling in the pit of his stomach. The two who’d been fighting shoved past Dylan and spilt out like a mess of undisciplined puppies, throwing themselves giggling down the ice. Dylan watched them, grinning. “But, like, we can still do something good here, right? Winning cups and shit.” 

“Oh, sure,” Dylan said, but his eyes were following the other guys who were trying to shove each other off heir skates. 

Crap, what the hell had he signed up for. 

“Anyway, I’m gonna, like, warm up. We can talk later or whatever,” Dylan said, gone before he’d even finished the sentence, the words trailing behind him down the ice. He was quick at least, but there was only so much you could do with someone who didn’t want to learn. 

Maybe this wasn’t going to be a career defining move. Maybe, well, maybe he just needed some perspective on it. It didn’t HAVE to be a career season. He was here for other things. Seeing a new culture. The education. 

Callum appeared, chasing after a puck. It bounced off the boards near Sid and he caught it with some difficulty, settling it on his blade. 

“Hey,” Sid said. “You want to practice that for a bit, puck control?” 

“Puck control? Can’t you teach me, like, some flashy NHL move. I wanna be in the highlights.” 

“Sure,” Sid said, glancing back over his shoulder. “We can do something flashy. But the really flashy stuff, you’ve gotta be able to control the puck to pull it off. Do some drills with me and I’ll show you something that might be good enough to end up on a highlights roll.” After all, if this was the standard then it wasn’t going to be hard. 

“Seriously? Because we’ve got a TV deal this year and if I’m on the TV...” 

“Seriously. Come on them, puck handling first.” 

“Sure thing,” Callum grinned. “Show me how to do it, Mr NHL.” 

**

Sid was busy washing his dinner plate when he heard a door slam, then footsteps heading up and the sound of muffled voices through the walls. He frowned, glancing up. He’d been giving the choice of the upstairs or the downstairs and the downstairs was bigger, extended out, at the back, but he’d presumed his neighbour was going to be reasonable and careful and that sound wouldn’t carry quite this easily. 

Still, it was too late to change it now. He finished wiping down the dish and then set it out to dry, grabbed his glass to do the same. There were a few steps above, the creek of a few floorboards, but it wasn’t quite as bad as all that. He’d live. 

What this did mean, though, was that his neighbour was here. 

He went back through to the living room and thought, for a minute, about going up there and introducing himself. It was probably the polite thing to do. He was going to have to play on a team with this guy, after all, and he didn’t want them to get off on the wrong foot. But, then, he didn’t want to be pushy. If it was another Canadian guy he’d probably go round, check they were settling in okay. He didn’t know what was polite when the other guy was a Russian. 

It wasn’t like he’d never played with a Russia before, they just tended not to socialise with the team. To find other Russians to be friends with. And now Sid was living with one. Below one. 

It was different. 

He made himself go over to the window and glance out. The car the club had given him was pulled up to the curb and, parked behind it, was coach’s car. That explained the voices, talking. Of course someone would show the new guy to his flat, someone had shown Sid here. It was just...

He’d known the play in the AHL. He knew how to show up and be the guy they needed him to be. He was good at it. He had his role in the team. Here, well, maybe it was just early. Maybe he was just making judgements before he had all the facts. It wasn’t like he’d actually expected British hockey to be just like the AHL but...

He used to be good at this. 

Voices again. Steps coming back down and Sid stepped away from the window, back towards the kitchen like he’d been caught. There, he opened the fridge, let its hum drown out the voices. He wasn’t listening in, wasn’t being nosy. He’d introduce himself in the morning. He’d feel better in the morning. 

There was a knock on the door. He looked up, slowly. They knocked again. 

Okay, okay. He was going this. He shut the fridge, took a second to glance around and make sure there weren’t, like, any pieces of dirty underwear lying around, then he walked over and opened the door. 

Coach was stood there, wearing a jacket over his polo-shirt and dabbing at the sweat that ran down his neck. He grunted and stepped back. 

“Crosby,” he nodded. “This is Malkin. Just in from Russia.” 

“Hey,” Sid said, forcing himself to look over at his new teammate. Malkin was tall and he looked strong. He had the face of someone who’d been hit with a puck a few times but the frame of a man who was ready to start a season. He grinned, reached for Sid’s hand and shook it vigorously. 

“Hello,” he said, his accent thick as any Sid had ever heard. “Is nice for meet. Am Evgeni.” 

Sid nodded, like he’d caught the name. 

“Hey, you can call me Sid.” 

“Sid,” the Russian said, rolling the name around in his mouth. “Yes, good.” 

“For sure,” Sid said, glancing over at Coach. He shrugged like he didn’t quite know what the Russian was getting at either. Malkin released his hand, at least, and Sid took a step back only for Malkin to pat him warmly on the shoulder. 

“Coach say you’re centre.” 

“Yeah, I’m a centre. You too, right?” 

“Yes. Am make first line.” 

“You... what?” Sid asked. Malkin beamed back at him. 

“Am play KHL. Is best, Russia best. Here, I’m make first line.” 

“I mean, you can try,” Sid said, glancing at coach. He was just watching them and when he looked back, there was something in Malkin’s expression that finally got through to him, he was being teased. Goddamnit. “Don’t think I’m going to make that easy for you, though.” 

“Ah good,” Malkin said, reaching over to grip his shoulder again. “Is what I’m like. Little bit fight.” 

“Oh, for sure,” Sid grinned, relaxing a little. This he knew. “But I’ve gotta tell you, I think I’m gonna get that first line. I played in the NHL.” 

“Bah, NHL,” Malkin grinned, shaking Sid’s shoulder a little. “KHL best.” 

Sid laughed, he couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help the smile that started to curve his lips. “Nah, Liverpool’s gonna be the best.” 

“Yes,” Malkin said, like it was a foregone conclusion, set in stone. “Liverpool best. We’re best.” 

“We are,” Sid agreed, his chest loosening. “We will be.” 

“Glad to hear it,” Coach cut in, gruff, but when Sid glanced over at him there was a smile curving the corner of his lips too, just the smallest one. “Good to see someone around here believing in this team. Crosby, Malking’s got a little... unfortunate problem with his driving. He’s not going to be able to get a license. Now, the club doesn’t really have the money to be ferrying him around...” 

“Oh, I’ll drive him,” Sid said, glancing over at the car they’d give him. “To practice and games at least, for sure.” 

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” Coach nodded. “Get that, Malkin. Crosby’ll be driving you.” 

“Sid drive,” Malkin repeated, seriously, nodded. 

“Exactly. Now, get some sleep. I want you on the ice first thing. Tomorrow, we really start.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Running behind already XD I meant to actually put this up on the 18th but I ended up spending the day waiting in lines to be seen about a bad wasp sting I'm fine now. 
> 
> The next instalments should deal with the pre-season. It'll hopefully be out on the 2nd of September. 
> 
> Because I'm extra, I've made up a season schedule for the Liver. It doesn't clash with the actual elite league schedule so should be entirely viable, which I know doesn't actually matter but it was important to me. I'll be following this and at the end of each update I'll give a little thing with scores for the games they have 'played' and an updated set of league standings. Because extra


	3. Friday 24th August

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sid goes along to a team selfie night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made the decision that every new date is going to be a new chapter so that means chapters are going to vary a lot more in length. This is the last shot before the pre-season really starts.

****

Friday 24th August 

“So, how are you liking the UK?” 

“Oh, it’s great,” Sid said, forcing a smile. The worst thing about fan events, other than the simple fact of their existence, was that he spent hours answering the same questions over and over again. Yes, he was excited for the season. Yes, he was glad to be here. Yes, he did really believe they could win. Yes, he really liked what he’d seen of Liverpool so far. No, it wasn’t too cold for him. “I’ve not had time to see much of the city yet, I’ve been pretty busy with training camp.” 

“Oh, yeah,” the guy said, swinging back onto his heels. “I stopped by to watch you guys on Wednesday. Looking good.” 

“Thanks,” Sid said, glancing around again. The bar was pretty crowded, people in a variety of jerseys from the previous seasons. The new jerseys had finally arrived that morning which was good since they were travelling to Guildford in the morning. “You want a selfie or...?” 

“Yeah,” the guy said, pulling up his jersey to grab his phone out of his jeans pocket. Sid shuffled closer, hands stuffed into his pockets. Taylor always laughed at him for it but he’d never quite got the hang of taking selfies so this was a new kind of hell. Around the room, his other new team members seemed to be doing okay. Nick was hanging by the bar, chatting with a guy who looked like a long term fan, and he actually looked more animated than he had any time on the ice. Callum was talking to a girl in a low cut dress and blushing and someone probably needed to intervene there as Sid couldn’t imagine management would be too happy with people picking up at fan events, though what did he know. The Canadian contingent had taken over a booth and were taking turns to pose with various fans, obviously lingering longer with the ones who were more conventionally attractive. 

Malkin, meanwhile, seemed to have made it his duty to photobomb as many pictures as he could. His English wasn’t great but it seemed happy to chat to anyone who came up to him, delivering each identical answer with a smile as though he was delighted to finally be asked. He’d slid into Sid’s pictures a few times, appearing with a sudden hand on Sid’s hip, the press of a firm chest against his back, the point of a chin cutting into Sid’s shoulder. 

Not that Sid noticed that much. 

The fan took the photo and stepped back, thanking Sid and grinning. Sid thanked him right back and took the chance to take a few steps away, to disengage and to turn. 

Of course, this was a fan event so he didn’t get very far. 

“Hey,” the new man said, thrusting his hand in Sid’s face. “You’re the new guy, right? Crosby. The NHL guy.” 

“That’s me,” Sid said, laughing nervously. “Though I really haven’t played much in the NHL.” 

“More than most of these guys,” the man said, gesturing around the bar, and Sid had to admit that it was true, his few games did outshine most of the other guys. If you could really count a few stolen games in a career that never really began as a shine. “Name’s Carey. David Carey. I’m a big Liver fan. Me and my wife, we’re sponsoring Callum this year.” 

“Oh, I bet he really appreciates that,” Sid said, quickly. “He’s got a lot of potential. He’s fast, willing to learn. I think he might do good things this season.” 

“Glad to hear it,” David said, smiling a little. “He’s a good kid. My son, Paul, he’s on the youth team here. He’s played a little with Callum over the years. Maybe, next year, you’ll be sharing the ice with him.” 

“I’m sure that’d be an honour.” 

“Maybe you can drop in some time, give him some pointers on his game. With Kirk getting drafted this year, well, I can’t tell you we don’t have our eyes across the pond.” 

“I mean, if there’s time in the training schedule then I’d love it,” Sid hedged. He was all for working with local kids but the last thing he wanted was to accidentally commit himself to working with some fans kid for hours. “It’d all have to go through coach.” 

“Oh sure, sure,” David said, waving him off. “Oh look, here they come now. Let’s get a family selfie.” 

He stepped back and waved and Sid turned to look at the people approaching, then his stomach dropped. This kid, he wasn’t going to make it to the NHL. He was small, he didn’t look like he worked out. Sid had spent a lot of time working with kids trying to break into the game and none of them looked like this. It wasn’t just the physical, though. It was the way he walked a step behind his mum, shoulders hunched, eyes darting like he was expecting a hit any second. Making the game, especially being one of the first from your country, you couldn’t walk like that. 

The attitude itself might have been overcome but that with the height and the general level of fitness...

“Cathy,” David shouted, waving his hand. “Get over here. This is Crosby.” 

“The NHL player,” the woman, presumably David’s wife, said, sticking out a hand covered in giant rings. “It’s so great to meet you. I’m Cathy Carey. This is my son Paul. He plays too.” 

“I told him that already,” David said, already pulling out his phone. “Come on, get in shot.” 

The family pushed in, Paul seemingly a little reluctantly, and Sid smiled and tried to pretend it didn’t bother him, having so many people in his personal space. That this was fine. And it was, really. Fine. He was used to fans. He just wished. 

“Hello.” A chest against his back. A large hand settling on his hip. Sid hated the way his breath caught just a little. “I’m be in picture too.” 

“Oh, sure,” David said, adjusting his phone. “You’re Malkin, right?” 

“Yes, from KHL. Best league in world.” 

“Yeah, says you,” Sid grinned. Malkin laughed in his ear. 

“Yes, is best. Come on, I’m steal Sid now, sorry. Time done and I’m need him for drive me home.” 

“Oh, sure,” Cathy said, stepping back. Sid risked a glance at the clock behind the bar and technically they had five more minutes, he could have taken a few more selfies, shaken a few more hands. But Malkin’s arm was firmly around his shoulder now, pushing him towards the door and it was easier to not resist. 

“Come,” Malkin said, still a little too close to his ear. “I’m find good place for pizza. Let me show.” 

“Yeah,” Sid swallowed. “Sounds good.”


	4. Sunday 2nd September

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last game of the pre-season.

**Sunday 2nd September**

In the end, they were just on time for the team bus. Sid had wanted to be early, had wanted to see the team on to the bus. Coach hadn’t announced his leadership team yet and Sid worried about that, worried that everyone wasn’t being taken care of. Someone was going to count them onto the bus, sure, but was someone going to check in with them? The loss the night before, 4-1 to the Glasgow Clan, had been a hard pill to swallow. The locker room had been quiet after, defeated.

He’d hated it. He’d watched Nick, expected him to go around and chat to a few of the guys. Their goalie in particular, a young Brit called Cutting, had looked like he needed it.

Nick had packed his bag, not made eye contact, and left. And he’d been the Captain last year.

In the end, Sid had spoken to Cutting. He’d seemed maybe a little less defeated when they were done. A little more like he might go out there and make a few saves. The thing was, he hadn’t played a bad game. The second goal, he’d be right to want that one back, but other than that he’d been solid. Stood on his head to stop a shorthanded chance from Haywood. But when he’d needed help, the defense hadn’t been there.

That one wasn’t for him to take on, though. Sorting out positions, that was for Coach.

By the time he got on the coach, Malkin trailing behind with his glasses down over his bloodshot eyes, everyone else was settled in, most of them with earbuds in, and the only free spaces were by Callum and by Anderson, one of the Canadian defensemen Sid hadn’t spoken to much yet.

Malkin pressed up against his back. “I’m sit with Anderson.”

“No fair, you’re the reason we’re late.”

“Please, Sid?”

Sid Sighed. Callum was already looking over and waving anyway so it was probably too late. “Fine, but you owe me.”

“Yes, you best,” Malkin agreed, stepping back. Sid forced himself not to follow the warmth of Malkin’s body. He slid into the seat next to Callum and let Malkin pass and carry on down the bus to Anderson, the lucky shit.

Next to him, Callum grinned.

“So,” he said, leaning in. “Are you excited for the game? The Steelers, this is a big one.”

Sid frowned. “Wait, I thought the Storm were our rivals? This is the big one?”

“Dude, the Steelers are everyone’s rivals. Like, it’s no point even saying they’re your rivals because the entire league is like, same. So, like, the Storm are our rivals but the Steelers, fuck the Steelers.”

“So, are they really good?”

“I mean, they think they are. They’re not, like, top of the league or anything though they won the playoffs the year before last but, seriously, fuck them. They’re dirty.”

“I mean, sure,” Sid said, shrugging. If this wasn’t a personal thing, at least from the Steeler’s perspective, then at least it meant they’d probably take no more shit than usual. “So, how do they rate compared to, like, the team who beat us last night.”

“Well, they’re better than the clan,” Callum admitted, though it looked like he was doing it grudgingly. “But, well, they lost last night too, to the Panthers. And they’ve got a new goalie in from Belfast, Whistle. He’s good, but I think some of the tricks you taught me...”

“Don’t go too heavy on the tricks,” Sid said quickly. “But, look, maybe if they’re feeling a little beat up and they’re expecting an easy game from us we do stand a chance.”

“Man, that’s what I’m saying. We dazzle them, I take a trick shot...”

“Or we work hard and focus on the basics. Being flashy doesn’t win games if you’re not in the right place at the right time. We practiced this, remember. Your passing’s a lot better in practice then in a game.”

“Sid, come on, we’ve got to give the fans what they want. Passing, nobody pays their money to see a good pass.”

“No, they pay their money to see a good fight and I don’t see you signing up for that.” Callum paled a little. For all he didn’t seem to know how to stop talking, he definitely wasn’t the fighter of the team. “So listen, we go in and we play hard but clever. Sensible. Controlled. That’s how we win.”

“Sid...”

“Do you think people want to see you flip a puck around and lose or pass well and win.”

“...win.”

“Exactly. And we need a win so come on, chin up. Get your phone out and I can remind you about some of the plays we practiced.”

Callum sighed in a deeply put-upon manner but he did scoot down and grab his phone and Sid grinned. They’d make a proper hockey player out of him yet. All he needed was some patience and some structure.

***

“Okay, okay,” Coach said, leaning in over Sid. “We’ve got a powerplay. We’ve got a chance.” 

Sid glanced up at the board. Tied, 4-4, a minute forty-two on the clock. He cursed, glanced up and down the line. They were all visibly exhausted. Callum was slumping. Malkin was leaning on his stick. It’d felt like any other pre-season game until one of the Steelers defensemen had smacked right into Nick towards the end of the first. Then it had felt personal. 

It still felt personal. 

Sid looked up at the board again. They’d come from behind. The score had been 3-0 against them when Nick had taken the hit. They’d put pressure on Whistle, forced a lot of turnovers, brought an offensive game like that hadn’t managed to pull out yet in the pre-season. 

They’d started to feel like a team who could win. Sid couldn’t let them lose this. 

“Coach,” he said, keeping his voice low, steady. “Send me and Callum out.” 

“I’m not sure Callum’s up for power play…” Coach said, glancing down at him. Normally, Sid would entirely agree. He was young, rash, not skilled enough. Not refined enough. 

“I’ve been working with him, I think we can do it.” 

“What’s plan?” Malkin lean in over Anderson. Anderson shifted forward a little, giving them space to breath. 

“Callum’s not precise but he’s fast. I can win this faceoff. I’m going to grab it, he’s going to run to the net and we’re going to put it in.” 

“Not work like that,” Malkin said, shaking his head. “Too many risk. You’re get, send to me, I’m throw to Callum.” 

“I guess just… he doesn’t always take passes well. You’ve got to get it right to him and we’ve been practicing…” 

“Okay,” Malkin nodded. “Then I’m do faceoff, you’re pass to Calum.” 

Sid bit his lip. He’d not exactly spent as much time with Malkin on the ice as he’d like. They were both centers so it wasn’t like they needed to know each other’s hockey the way they needed to know their wingers and they were still all so new to each other. 

But, then, Malkin. His hockey. There was something out there. 

“I’m gonna tear down the right.” 

“I’m get to you.” 

“Coach…” 

“Jesus, why not? It’s only the per-season. Might as well take a chance on your idiots. Engels, you hear that?” 

Callum looked up, eyes widening a little as he realise that this was actually it, he was going to get to go out on the powerplay. “You actually mean this?” 

“Over the boards.” 

They didn’t wait to be told twice. Sid stopped by and whispered in the defensemen’s ears, told them to make a little space, then skated out and positioned himself to the right. There was so much that could go wrong here. If Malkin didn’t win the faceoff, if the puck got away from them…

The puck dropped. 

Sid moved. As fast as he could, down towards the boards on the right. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Callum and one of the D racing for the net. He pushed, made the faceoff dot, spun. 

The puck was already careening towards him, he snatched it up on his stick, barely allowing it a second to settle before showing it away again, sending it as accurately as he knew so it crashed right into the blade of Callum’s stick and Callum, eyes wide, flipped it. The trick Sid had been working on with him. Whistle dropped, expecting the shot between the legs, and instead Sid watched as the puck moved up, over his shoulder, skimming the pads, and no. 

The goal horn sounded. 

The block of loyal fans who’s traipsed after them cheered, a defiant grin spread across Sid’s face and he turned, opened his arms and let Malkin come crashing into them. For a second it was just them, pressed against each other on the ice, reliefe and adrenaline flooding his body and Malkin right there and yelling and then Callum was crashing into his back and the defense were there, patting each others helmets and laughing and Callum wooping like he’d just won the cup instead of a pre-season friendly. 

“Told you,” Callum yelled. “Said we could win it.” 

“You did,” Sid agreed. “You were right.” 

“Fuck yes,” Malkin agreed, reaching over to rub at Callum’s helmet, his arm still heavy around Sid’s back. 

And then they were all peeling off, running by the bench and bumping fists. Changing the line so someone else could get out there and hold it. There was still a minute nineteen of the clock. Sid watched it count down from the bench, Callum screaming in his ear. The Steelers pulled Whistle but it did no good, they won. 

Their first win. 

***

The shitty thing about being Malkin’s lift was his bus drinking on the way back home was limited to the one. Callum had won man of the match and pushed on of the cans of beer he’d got for it into Sid’s hands and that much it would have been rude to refuse, but while the others forced the bus to stop on a street so they could rush into a tesco express and buy more alcohol them they could drink. 

Sid could hardly hold it against them, he got the feeling wins were rare around here. Nick had shouted into his ear about a quarter of an hour into the journey that they hadn’t been the Steelers in four years and it was only pre-season but…

But. 

There was no napping on the bus home, not resting. Guys were already plotting their night out, Malkin right in the middle of them. He was flushed from the win. Excited. He pulled all the guys around him, made them laugh. 

Sid had a lot of experience with not finding his team mates attractive. It had been a while since his last serious boyfriend, though, and he wasn’t dead. It hurt nobody for him to look. 

“Crosby.” 

Sid glanced up at coach, blinked, then shifted down a seat to make room for him. Coach slid in next to him, careful of the beer can in his hand. He’d obviously had more than just the one but, they, his wife was here to drive him back. 

“You doing okay, Coach?” 

“Pretty good, yeah. I was going to call you in tomorrow to talk about this but, you know what, now works.” 

“There’s a problem?” 

“No problem. Crosby, I’ve been thinking a lot about leadership in this team. It’s hard to come in and prove you mean business, particularly with the brits I’m stuck with here. Not a one of them believes we can win.” 

“Think we showed them something tonight.” 

“I think we did too, Crosby. And I think we did it because of you” 

Sid felt the blush creeping up his cheek. “Callum scored the goal. And Malkin was the one who really made it work. He’s right, if I’d tried to snipe it down to Callum….” 

“But it was your play, and you were the man big enough to change your plan when you heard a better one. Crosby, I want you to be the captain.” 

Sid’s brain ground to a halt. Captain. He’d never been captain. He’d thought, with the conversation, that maybe he was going to be offered the A but…

“Coach, with all due respect, Nick’s the captain.” 

“Nick’s the captain of a losing team. He’s the captain of a team that won four games last year. And barely at that. This team, it needs something new. It needs someone who believes.” 

Sid glanced around the bus. “What about Malkin? He’s liked…” 

“He’s good. He’s got the guys to all like him, I’ll give him that. But you, Sid, you put the work in. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you here at the rink all hours, putting in time with Callum with Nick, just working on your own shot.” 

“Well, I mean, it’s hockey. It’s not hard work if you’re doing the thing you love.” 

“Exactly, and it’s that attitude we need. What do you think?” 

Maybe he’d earned this. “I’d be really honoured coach. I’ll make you proud.” 

“I know you will, Crosby,” he said, reaching over and gripping Sid’s shoulder. “I’ll talk to my A’s tomorrow, let the team know before the season starts, so keep it under your hat for now. We’re going to do good this season, Crosby. We’re going to turn then around.” 

“Yes Sir.” Sid felt his spine straighten. Maybe he couldn’t actually promise anything but he was sure as hell going to try. 

***

“Come on, you need to move.” 

“No, is too hard,” Malkin protested, sprawling himself over the back seat of the taxi. Sid glanced over at the driver who was watching them, eyes narrowed. 

“If you get out of the taxi I’ll make you food.” 

A pause. 

“Good food?” 

“Definitely.” 

Malkin hauled himself up with what seemed to be a mighty effort and unfolded from the car. Sid reached out to slam the door and the driver was gone, ignoring them as they stumbled together towards their doors. When they got to them, Sid had to dig in the pocket of the too tight jeans Taylor had made him buy for his keys. Malkin leant against his back as he did and he tried not to think too much about it. 

His flat, when the got in, was predictably in the same state it’d been in hours ago when Malkin had hammered on his door and insisted Sid come out for post-win drinking. Sid hadn’t been able to say no. 

Now, he dumped Malkin on the sofa and stumbled it his kitchen. It took him a few minutes of scanning the fridge to decide that, yeah, he really did just have eggs. He grabbed the carton and stumbled back out. 

“Malkin, are eggs okay?” 

“What?” 

“I said I’d make food. Eggs.” 

“Eggs are best,” Malking said, tipping his head to rest on the back of the couch. “And you’re call me Geno now, remember. Is new hockey nickname.” 

“Sure,” Sid agreed amiably. They hadn’t been able to come up with a name for him, which he liked. Most of the place he’d been had settled on Sid. There was a guy he’d played with one year who really tried to make Croz stick but it hadn’t worked. 

Eggs were easy even when less than sober and Sid even found some bread to go with them. When he’d managed that he went back through to find that Malkin, Geno, had given up on sitting and was sprawling instead, boots on Sid’s cushions. 

“If you’re going to sit like that, at least take your shoes off.” 

“Not mother.” 

“No, but I made you food.” 

“Yes,” Geno said, opening his eyes and reaching out. “Give.” 

“Only if you get your shoes off.” 

Geno said something in Russia that was probably swearing but he did kick at his shoes until they came of, thudding to the floor, and reached for the eggs again. Sid dropped one of the plates onto Geno’s stomach then carefully set his own on the coffee table, lowering himself down to sit on the floor. He hated that his body protested this now, it felt like the end of hockey sliding into sight. He didn’t need to think about that now, though. Not tonight. 

Not when he was going to be Captain. 

Coach had told him not to say anything, and he hadn’t. Not for hours. Now, though, sitting in the quiet on the floor of his flat he looked over at Geno and abruptly decided that Geno didn’t count. 

“Hey. Geno. I’m gonna be captain.” 

“You?” Geno asked, eyebrow raised. 

“Don’t tell anyone, but Coach asked me. He said he wanted you to have A.” 

Geno seemed to mull that over for a second, shoving another fork full of eggs into his mouth, then he swallowed and nodded. 

“Yes. Be good. You Captain, me A.” 

“You think so. You’re not mad it isn’t you.” 

“No,” Geno said, shaking his head. “Be Captain lot of work. Got to talk lots. Better is you. I’m be best A, though. Together, we’re do.” 

“Yeah,” Sid agreed. He let his head fall back and it wasn’t just to feel the heat of Geno’s side but that was a nice benefit. “We’ll win together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Sorry it you're a Steelers fan. If you choose the wrong team, this is going to happen XD Sorry. I promise to make Sid beat my team later on in the fic.)


	5. Sunday 9th September

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First game of the season.

“Guys,” Sid said, standing up. He’d half expected the room to carry on talking. He hadn’t spoken very loudly and the room was crowded with hockey players, but they all quietened down pretty quickly, looking over, skates on, sticks in hand, like they’d just been waiting for Sid to stand up and talk. 

Which they had. He reached up self-consciously and rubbed at the C on his chest. He wasn’t used to how it sat yet, hadn’t ever had a letter before. 

“I just wanted to say, look, this is a tough team tonight.” 

Nick snorted, but when Sid glanced over he was pretty pointedly looking away, arms crossed defensively over his chest, the A somehow still managing to stand out. Fuck, he was going to have to do something about this. Practice had been unbearable all week. 

“They lost on Friday, though,” Callum said. Poor kid was practically vibrating. 

“To Bern.” One of the other Brits, eyes narrowed. “Do you have any fucking idea how badly Bern would beat us?” 

“Doesn’t matter,” Sid interrupted. If he let them carry on they’d be late on the ice. “So what, they’re playing in Europe? They’re just a team. They’re a team in our league and I know a few of you aren’t looking forward to this but we weren’t looking forward to Sheffield either and we beat them.” 

“Barely.” One of the Americans this time, slumped down in his stall. 

“Win’s a win. Look, you saw our fans out there. People have travelled down from Liverpool for this game, to watch us open the league. I know this is going to be tough, I know we might not win, all I want you to do tonight is to keep thinking about those fans. Keep thinking about them and play as well as you can. You go out there thinking we’re going to lose, we might as well just stay in this locker room. Go out there and try. There’s good hockey in this room, I’ve seen it in practice. There’s no reason we can’t go out there and give them one hell of a fight.” 

True, he’d also seen footage of Cardiff. He’d sat there with Geno and watched the Bern game on freesport. They’d lost but the guy was right, he could only image what would have happened to the Liver up against Bern. 

Cardiff were good, but they weren’t unbeatable. 

“Yes,” Geno said, standing up from the stall he’d claimed next to Sid, close enough that their shoulders bumped. “Can do.” 

“Yeah,” Callum said, right at the edge of his stall, looking a second away from jumping up too and throwing himself at them. “This is going to be fucking ace. They’re not even going to see us coming. They’re all worn out from playing in Europe and we’re, like, fresh legs and feeling good. Right?” 

The right he got back might not have been as loud as Sid would have ideally liked but it was real. 

“And they’re gonna underestimate us,” Sid said. “That’s our biggest hope going out there. They’re going to expect last year’s Liver and that’s not what they’re getting. We can do this.” 

A few yeah’s rattled around the room. Enough to make Sid smile. It wasn’t the entire time but it was a start. Something to build on. 

Then Coach came in and he let himself fall back, grab his water bottle and take a swig. At he did, Geno lay a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, Sid could just feel it through the pads. He grinned, reached over to pat Geno on the back. 

“We got this.” 

“Got this.” 

***

“Holy shit I can’t believe we’re two up.” 

“Told you they’d underestimate us,” Sid said, throwing his arm around Callum’s shoulders. They guys were piling into the locker room behind them, laughing and slapping each other on the back. Even the older brits were joining in, people who Sid had been struggling to win around. They were grinning now, though there was a kind of caution to it. One of them, Paulie who’d carried an A last year but didn’t seem surprised to have lost it this year in the way Nick did, seemed almost shocked. 

“It’s just, I mean,” Callum collapsed down on the bench. “Last year we scored, like, three goals against the Devils total. In the year. Now we’ve got three in one period.” 

“Told you we could,” Sid said, ruffling Callum’s hair. Callum squawked, his dignity obviously greatly battered, and pulled away. There was too much energy in him to stay still and he went careening across the room and crashing into some of the other guys, laughing and throwing his arms around them. 

Sid sank back down into his stall. He remembered that. Remembered the thrill of being ahead, of winning, being enough to launch him onto the ceiling for days. God, he missed that feeling. 

Geno collapsed into the stall beside him, leaning back and sticking his long legs out. They were unfairly long, really. He shouldn’t be able to skate like he did with the body he had and Sid wasn’t complaining, far from it, but it was still unfair. 

A lot of things about Geno were unfair. 

Like the way he casually insinuated himself into Sid’s space, something else nobody had really done since he was a teenager but that Geno did with ease. He leant over now, bumping their shoulders together and bringing his face in close to Sid’s. 

“Think maybe we’re need calm down. Not win yet.” 

“Yeah,” Sid admitted, glancing around the room. Even Nick was forcing a smile, though his looked slightly pained. The last few games, they’d sat basically across from each other. He was as far away as he could get now. He’d been avoiding Sid since Coach made the announcement. 

“Not want to.” 

“I don’t,” Sid said, shrugging. “I mean, Cardiff were sloppy out there, right?” 

“Yeah,” Geno agreed. “Line changes slow, even for UK. Not make good passes. Think they come out better?” 

“I think their coach is screaming at them right now.” 

Geno nodded. “Not saying don’t celebrate. Just saying, think game get tougher.” 

“Their goalie was starting to dig in, too. I think he wants that third goal back. I’ve seen some of his tape, he’s good.” 

“Yes. I’m watch GB at worlds, see tape. He good.” 

Sid nodded, sighed. Around him, you’d think they’d won the Stanley Cup. 

He didn’t want to bring them down, he didn’t. He wanted them to believe. 

He just wanted them to have something to believe in. 

He stood up. Geno stood with him, staying close. 

“Hey,” he shouted. “Awesome period guys. Now, let’s talk about the second.” 

***

Geno’s helmet went flying across the locker room and crashing into the far wall. Sid sighed. He hoped the club wouldn’t get fined if it left a dent, that was the last thing they needed. 

“Be more careful with that, you know our equipment budget’s shit.” 

Geno grumbled something in Russian but went over and picked up the helmet. He had the good nature to look penitent when it had a crack in it. It sure as hell wasn’t going to be protecting anyone from concussion now. 

“You’re gonna have to go see the equipment guy now.” 

“He here anyway with coach for yell.” 

“You know, we’re not actually down.” Sid tried to keep his voice level, not to snap at Geno. It wouldn’t help, and he got Geno’s frustration. That last shot shout have gone in, would have gone in on a lot of other goalies but not on Bowns. 

Fuck. 

“Yeah, we’re gonna be fine.” Callum shoved his way past Sid. “We’ve just gotta, like, get a few penalties. Send our line out there and boom, just like Sheffield!” 

“Don’t try to draw penalties,” Sid shoved Callum’s shoulder and went further into the room. It was quiet now, defeated already. The period had been terrible. They’d basically handed Cardiff the two goals to equalise and they’d only kept it from three with some scrappy defensive play. It hadn’t been fun. 

But they were only even. 

Geno slid into his stall, still scowling. He was going to go out there and try to draw some penalties for sure. Fuck. 

Sid reached out and grabbed Geno’s arm. Geno jerked a little, looked over to Sid, and something in his expression loosened. His lips quirked up a little, the frown lines around his eyes eased. 

“Hi, Sid.” 

“Hey. You okay?” 

Geno shrugged. 

“I need you to be okay. I need you to be calm out there.” 

“I’m calm. Am always calm.” 

“You smashed up a helmet.” 

“Cheap, crappy helmet. Need new one anyway.” 

“Geno...” 

“Yes, am know. Fine. I’m be good.” 

“You’d better. Can’t score any goals for us from the penalty box.” 

“Who says I’m get penalty. Not get.” 

“Sure. I bet you never fight.” Sid had definitely looked up Geno’s stats and he definitely fought. Or at least he took his share of penalties. And he had that look about him, still. Some Devils d-man was going to take one look at the way Geno was holding his shoulders and know who to turn to so they’d make a stupid mistake. 

Sid just wished he knew how to stop it. How to get Geno to relax, to re-focus. He got the frustration, he did. It just wasn’t useful now. 

Maybe Geno just needed a really good hug. 

But then the locker room door was opening and Coach was coming in. He pulled back and got ready to listen. 

***

Sid didn’t throw his helmet, but he wished he could. 

Nobody was talking. They all filed in like it was a fucking funeral, not an away game. It would have been bad enough without the fucking handshake line and why did the UK think they needed to end every game with a handshake line. The last thing he’d wanted to do was look into Pope’s face and shake his hand after he’d been the one to burry that last empty netter. An entire year of handshake lines was going to kill him. 

Geno was already in his stall, Callum in his. It was probably the first time Sid had seen Callum be still and quiet for this long. It wasn’t a good look. 

Fuck. 

“Hey,” he said, nudging Callum’s foot with his skate. “It’s okay.” 

“I fucked up.” 

He had. That fifth goal against was firmly on his shoulders and he’s told Callum not to take stupid penalties. He’d told Geno too and he hadn’t listened either. He didn’t know what the hell that D-man had said to him but once he was in the box and Cardiff had drawn ahead, well, that was it. 

They were gonna end up doing a bag skate. He knew it. He’d seen it in the sparkle of Coach’s eye. He was going to have to drag himself out of bed at some stupid hour tomorrow to skate until his legs turned to jelly because none of these idiots could resist a fight when they were down and they needed to because they were going to be down. They weren’t scoring goals and they were panicking when they got the puck and he didn’t even want to think about their line changes. 

And he could say all that, could shout it, but it wouldn’t help a bit. 

And he only had a few minutes until Coach got here. 

He forced himself up. 

“So, that sucked.” A few of the guys snorted, Geno among them. “But it was one game, and we knew this was going to be tough. We know what we need to work on, now. We’ve got a lot of speed but we need more confidence and more precision. There was nothing that went wrong tonight that we can’t fix with some hard work.” 

“Sure,” one of the Americans sneered. “Other than some fucking Russian assholes taking stupid penalties.” 

“Hey,” Sid said, stepping quickly in front of Geno like he had to protect him. “We were all worked up. Geno wasn’t the only one who took a stupid penalties and yeah, that’s 100% something we’re going to have to work on, but we killed most of them. The Devils only scored three and that empty netter doesn’t really count.” 

“I don’t...” the guy started. Sid was quick to cut him off. 

“The Devils, they won the league last year, right? These are the guys to beat. Winning here, at the beginning of the season, when they’ve kept a load of their guys and have chemistry and we’ve only been playing together for a few weeks, that was always gonna be a hard call. But we showed up and we tried. We’re getting better all the time.” 

“Got to play the Storm next week,” Callum said, blinking up at him. 

“Well, we’ll come back then. We’ll work hard and be ready for them, okay?” 

“Yes.” Geno stood up behind him, lay a hand on Sid’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m make big mistake, get mad. I’m try not to do. Think about when Coach makes bag skate tomorrow.” That forced a few matches. “But this one game. Not even important. We’re win next time. Beat Storm.” 

“Yeah,” Callum said, sitting forward in his stall. “Fuck the Storm.” 

Sid let himself smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the Devils played Bern on the Saturday not the Friday don't @ me. I did my schedule for the Liver season without thinking about things like travelling back from Bern then last weekend I was like, wait, this won't work. But I wanted the Liver to get to play on opening weekend so this was my compromise. Also, fuck Bern. I've got a Sad for Cardiff, I wanted the UK To do well in Europe this year. 
> 
> Quite a few people commenting have said they're elite league fans. That's awesome. Call me out if I do something wrong. I think I said before but this is only my second full season following the league so I will probably mess something up. I'd love for you to tell me, I promise not to be mad. I might end up writing about rinks I've never been to (like ice arena Whales, for to pull one out of a hat) or teams I've not had a chance to see in person yet (and highlight reels are never the same) so tell me if I mess up and I'll thank you. 
> 
> I also don't mind people calling out typos. I try but the nature of this is write as I post with quick turn-around so some will slip by and I appreciate anyone who helps out with them. Though y'all can also leave comments to tell me you enjoy the fic XD I won't stop you. 
> 
> Also, not every chapter will be a game. Next chapter for the home opener, yes. But not every chapter. Maybe Sid and Geno will have a night in sometimes or something...


	6. Friday 14th September

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home opener.

“Sorry am late,” Geno said, dumping himself into the passenger seat of Sid’s car. “I’m bring coffee.” 

“They’ll have coffee at the rink,” Sid said, glancing down at his watch. They weren’t actually late, he had Geno’s number. You just have to give him a time thirty minutes earlier than you actually wanted to leave. 

“Yes, but I’m put little bit of vanilla syrup in. Know what you’re like.” 

Sid felt heat rising in his cheeks. “Shut up. I don’t mind it as it comes and sugar’s really bad for you, you know. I was thinking about going gluten free...” 

“Sugar maybe bad,” Geno interrupted. “But you’re still like. So I’m make for you.” 

“I... thanks.” 

“See, not so hard. I’m think Canada boy meant to be polite.” 

“I am polite,” Sid said, glancing over his shoulder and pulling away. “I said thank you. I mean, I can’t drink it right now because I’m driving.” 

“I’m hold for you.” Geno settled into his seat. “Keep warm.” 

“Thanks,” Sid said, definitely keeping his eyes on the road and not letting them to drawn to where Geno had tucked one of the travel mugs he was carrying between his thighs. “You fired up for tonight? These guys are our rivals, right?” 

“Yes. Big rival. Is good game for home opener.” 

“For sure. The fans are gonna be hyped. I hope the guys are too.” 

“Will be. Your good captain, have good coach to. Get guys going.” 

“For sure. I mean, we’ll try. Most of the guys seem to be coming around. Some of them...” 

“You mean Nick or Dylan?” 

Sid snorted. He’d meant Nick, mostly. He’d seen guys take loosing a letter badly before but not like this. He was acting like a kid. He hadn’t said a word he didn’t have to to Sid since Sid had been announced Captain. But, of course, in his own way, Dylan was as bad. This was a joke to him. The game, the league. He didn’t work. Didn’t try. He was pretty content down there on the third line getting as little ice time as he could. 

“You think Dylan was hungover at practice yesterday?” 

“I think he still drunk,” Geno said, wrinkling his nose. “Smell.” 

“Yeah, he kind of did. You think I should talk to him?” 

“Not know if it help. Maybe I’m do. You not have to be nag all time. I’m talk to him tomorrow, on bus to Guildford. Can’t run away from me there.” 

“Thanks,” Sid said. He reached over, patting Geno’s arm quickly before getting his hands back on the wheel. “God, three games in two days. This is kind of ridiculous.” 

“Yes. We’re not do in KHL. KHL best.” 

“Sure,” Sid said, rolling his eyes. He sure as hell wasn’t getting into the discussion again. “At least we get to rest during the week, kind of.” 

“Rest more if you’re not make me go to gym.” 

Sid didn’t dignify that with a response, keeping his eye on the traffic instead. It was still weird to be driving on the wrong side of the road. He’d probably get used to it just in time to go back home. 

“You come for drink after game?” 

“No way. Not with two more games this weekend. You think the guys are gonna want to?” 

“Dylan, yes. If we get big win, definitely yes.” 

“I mean, if we get a big win then one drink won’t hurt.” 

“Good,” Geno said, reaching over to squeeze Sid’s arm. It wasn’t as good as the half-hugs and back slaps Geno seemed to like to hand out all the time but it was still pretty nice. “I’m go with you anyway. Whatever you do. Maybe you’re right, we’re not go out tonight. Maybe we’re watch movie instead.” 

“Yeah? That’d be pretty nice.” 

“Yes, if you’re want. Maybe easy movie, though. English?” He shrugged at that and Sid grinned. 

“Movies are good for your English.” 

“But Sid, sometimes I’m not want work.” 

Sid laughed as he pulled into the rink car park. 

***

“Hey, Nick.” 

The noise level in the room bottomed out, which wasn’t much of a change to be honest. People shared glances, pretended they weren’t watching. 

Nick said nothing. 

“Think maybe we can step outside for a second and talk, buddy? Room’s not feeling so good and I want to go out there and sort this out before we go take on the Storm.” 

Nick looked up at Sid this time at least, then he snorted and went back to strapping on his pads. Sid sighed. How has every other Captain he’d ever had made this look easy? 

Still, every eye on the room was on him now. He put down the football they’d been using for pre-game kick about and walked over to Nick’s stall. There was a mumble around the room and, hell, Sid wished he’d been able to poll them in advance or something about what to do about this. Some of the Brits had played with Nick for years, maybe he was always like this. Maybe it would blow over. 

But they were going out there to play the Storm, out for blood after two losses to the Panthers. He couldn’t bet on it just blowing over. 

“Hey,” he said, keeping his voice level. “Look, I get that you’re pissed. You’re allowed to be pissed but right now you’re bringing the room down. You’ve got a problem with me, that’s fine. We can go and talk about it, you can yell, I don’t care. But we’ve gotta sort this room out. We’ve gotta get fired up for the game, you know.” 

Nick looked up. For a second, he actually met Sid’s eyes. For a second, Sid thought they might actually have it out, take care of this. 

Then he very pointedly turned away. 

Well, okay then. 

Sid turned back to the room. 

The rest of them were watching him. Waiting. Fuck, he shouldn’t have started this here. Geno was hovering on the edge of his seat like he wanted to jump up and intervene. Hell, he probably did. 

Shit. Now what. 

He cast around, eyes finally landing on Eddy. The oldest brit in the room other than Nick. The one who’d been skating in a Liver jersey longest out of anyone in the room. 

“Hey, Eddy. Tell us about the Storm.” 

“What,” Eddy said, lip quirking, weren’t you listening to Coach earlier?” 

A smattering of laughter, good. 

“Like he really knows. Tell me about them. Why are we rivals? Is it just a Manchester Liverpool thing? I hear that’s a thing?” 

“Like we need to import our drama from football,” Eddy said with a grin. He leant back in his stall and now every eye in the room was on him. Good. 

“So, like, when we formed in 98, the Storm were a big deal. It was the Superleague back then, in the Elite league, and they won the thing. And we, I mean, the team. I wasn’t playing for them then, obviously. Though I think Nick might have been.” Another chuckle. Sid didn’t dare glance back to see how the chirp landed. 

“Anyway, we wanted to join the league and the Storm basically blocked us. Or, well, they say they didn’t but fuck them. They totally did. We didn’t get into the top league until after they got into financial trouble and had to close. And they’ve always been better than us. I mean, in terms of the league. There’s not once since they reformed in 2015 that we’ve beaten them. People from Liverpool go over to fucking Manchester to watch them instead of coming here.” 

“Fuck those people.” Callum. Full of righteous anger, as always. “And fuck always losing to them. There’s no reason to lose to them.” 

“Yeah,” Sid said. Eyes swung back to him. “What, they think they’re better than us? They’ve not even faced most of us. They’ve got no idea what we can do. How hard we’ve been working.” 

“Exactly,” Eddy said, apparently getting where Sid was going with this. “No reason we can’t go out there tonight and beat them. I’ve been on this team for four years, it’s never been like this. We’ve never had a Coach like this. This guy, he thinks we can win. We’ve never played this well. Sure, we’ve had some loses, but we’ve been competitive. Guys aren’t running us over and putting away ten goals against us in a game any more.” 

A few of the other Brits who’d played the season before nodded. 

“So,” Eddy said. “Let’s go out there and hand them their asses.” 

A cheer. Sid glanced back over his shoulder. Nick still had his back turned, was still staring at the wall. 

***

“Come no,” Sid said, under his breath. He was on the edge of the bench, watching Geno. He had the puck, was actually putting some pressure on Ginn in the Storm net, but he wasn’t getting the chances. More guys needed to come in, to help him get more chances. The Storm defence was too tight. 

Not being able to be on the ice was a physical pain. They were down by one, if they could go into the third even...

The clock was counting down. 

Nick leant over. He’d been lurking at the edge of Sid’s vision for a while, looking like he had something to say. Sid hadn’t been ignoring him really, just trying to let Nick come to him. Trying to let him pick his moment. 

Geno shot, the puck hit Ginn’s pads and he got it down on the ice. Dylan, actually paying attention for once, swooped in for the rebound but Ginn had already cleared it, down to Ehrhardt who was off down the ice before anyone could do anything else about it, leaving the Liver trailing after him. Fuck. 

“We’re not going to win.” 

Sid glanced back over his shoulder. Nick was scowling. 

“I’m not going this now. Talk to me in intermission.” 

“You think you can come in here with a few fancy words and actually make us win. You can’t.” 

“Fuck off.” 

“We’re going to lose. We always do. There’s always this bit at the start of the season when it looks like things will actually get better. Then there’s no money, there’s never enough ice time, guys have to take second jobs to feed their families so they get out of shape. The other teams are faster, better. We always lose.” 

“You always have before.” 

“And what, you played in the NHL So you can fix it?” 

The puck was on Geno’s stick again. He was tearing back up the ice but they hadn’t had time for a line change and he was tired, slow. Manchester were already there, backing up their goalie. 

“No. But I’ve got to fucking try, haven’t I? We can’t all give up.” 

“You’ll try and fail and fuck off back to Canada and leave the rest of us to carry on failing without you.” 

“Maybe you’re happy to fail, I’m not.” 

“Whatever. We’ll see how long that C stays on your chest when we start to loose.” 

The end of the period sounded. Geno smashed his stick onto the ice, score still 2-1. 

***

In the period break, Sid locked himself in the toilets. He’d have preferred anywhere else but it wasn’t like they had anywhere else. A tiny crowded changing room, a cramped hallway, a glorified cupboard to store their kit. More space in this rink was given over to the kids staking. 

He flipped down the toilet seat, sat on it, and shoved his head into his hands. Forced himself to take deep, even breaths. Even if he didn’t want to. Even if he wanted to punch the door. Even if he wanted to scream. Even if he wanted to grab Nick and shake him and force him to see that this wasn’t how it had to be, how it was always going to be. That they could win but they had to believe. 

He couldn’t believe for them all. 

He gave himself two minutes of even breaths then stood, washed his hands, headed back to the locker room. 

He had a third period to win. 

***

An argument could be made that, if Sid hadn’t been so pissed, he would have seen the hit coming. As it was, one minute he was skating down the boards, following the play, the next his shoulder was crashing into the ice and he was swearing. 

Shit, that did not feel good. 

Not missing a game bad, at least. But not good. Not good enough that he was probably going to have to get it looked after. Not good enough that it protested when he went to push himself up from the ice. 

They were even: four minutes on the clock. He didn’t need this. 

He glanced across at the bench and, of course, the first thing he saw was Nick’s smirking face. Fuck. 

He was going to win this, even if only to prove Nick wrong. 

***

His shoulder still ached after the winning goal came off his stick, but it was a lot more manageable. 

***

“Here, ice.” 

“Thanks,” Sid said, reaching out to take the ice pack from Geno. He’d wrapped it in his hoodie which was, whatever. It smelt nice when Sid pressed it to his shoulder, though. He resisted the urge to reach over and lay his head on it. “You know, you’re allowed to look in my kitchen cupboards to find something to wrap this in.” 

“Is okay,” Geno shrugged. “I’m not want to poke. Not nosy.” 

“I don’t keep my secrets in my kitchen cupboards.” 

“Never know.” A cheeky grin, a little bit of tongue poking out between his teeth. Sid had to look away, to grab his phone. Best to keep himself busy. Distracted. 

“Hey, Dylan’s posted to the facebook. They’re going down the Ship. You should go.” 

“You’re not go.” 

“Well, no,” Sid agreed, gesturing at his arm. It was definitely going to bruise and he’d been held back while someone looked at it but nobody had said anything about him not playing tomorrow. He’d taken pain killers, though, and all he really wanted to do was lie down on the couch and not move his shoulder. “But you should go. You’re the A. I mean, Nick is too but he’s not worth much and I’ve not really got a read on Burton yet. I know he played well last year but...” 

“Sid, team going for drinks, not drills. Not need A.” 

“Yeah, but it’s team building. You should go.” 

“You have popcorn?” 

“What?” 

“I’m check.” 

Geno lopped off to the kitchen like they hadn’t been in the middle of a conversation. Sid sighed and sank back into the couch. He really did wish he could go out. The atmosphere when he’d landed that shot, in the locker room after, he’d been electric. He did want to be with the team. Did want to be celebrating. 

Didn’t want to be alone. 

But Geno deserved to be out there too. It’d been a scrappy game and he’d held his own. He deserved a drink. To be with the team. Maybe to bring someone home to celebrate. 

God, maybe Sid could even think about that here. It’d always seemed like such a risk in America, in Canada. But here, he’d only been stopped once while out in town. Most of the city didn’t even seem to realise they had an ice hockey team. Maybe here he could be safe. 

Geno came back, triumphantly clutching a bag of Sid’s popcorn. 

“Okay, you’re pick movie.” 

“I’m just gonna lie here and listen to some podcasts. You go get changed to go out.” 

“Podcasts too hard for English,” Geno said, apparently deciding on selective deafness to get his way now. “Movie.” 

“You should go...” 

“Sid, I’m not go.” He dropped the popcorn on Sid’s stomach then grabbed the remote. “I’m pick, then. Netflix.” 

Sid knew how to pick a battle. “Sure.” 

Geno nodded, then turned, grabbed Sid’s feet, slid into the end of the couch and dropped Sid’s feet back into his lap. Like that was a perfectly normal thing to do. Sid yelped, went to scrambled up, but a big, sure hand on his ankle stopped him. 

“Is okay, stay.” 

“I don’t...” 

“Injured. Have to be comfortable. I’m make good foot rest.” 

“I mean, you do,” Sid said, letting himself sink back down. 

This was fine. 

“Thanks for staying in with me.” 

“Said I would. Besides, you’re deserve to be together with team too. You’re important.” 

‘For the team,’ Sid filled in, turning to see which movie Geno was going to pick and trying to ignore the warmth of Geno’s hand on his ankle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week's fake hockey results -  
> Challenge cup - Liver 4-3 Storm  
> League - Flames 5-4 Liver (Shootout)  
> League - Liver 1 - 5 Giants
> 
> I'll bring you a league table as if the Liver were on it soon. I apparently don't undertand the EIHL website rankings? It says Cov and Fife have both played one game which they neither won nor lost and they've got a point from it so... I'll work this out when I'm not so tired. And I can't even feel good about my Panthers being at the top because it's put the Storm at the bottom! I love my Panthers but the Storm are my backup good boys are they're easier geographically to get to. I want them to do well! It should be the Steelers down the bottom there...  
> (I, like, immediately worked out after posting this that for some reason the table isn't recording overtime losses, which do give a point, though it tracking overtime wins which don't change the points awarded. I'll get my head around it for the next update).
> 
> Next week, less hockey, more Sid and Geno spending their social time together.


	7. Wednesday 19th September

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A normal Wednesday.

“Sid, so early!”

Geno obviously hadn’t been up very long. He was wearing sleep pants, an overly-large t-shirt with Cyrillic writing, and his hair was a disaster. Sid definitely did not find it endearing.

“You’re the one who told me you wanted me to drive you to the gym this morning. I told you I was going early.”

“So early?” Geno whined, leaning on the door frame. “Not even coffee.”

“I told you I’m busy today. I’ve got to talk to coach and register at college and then I promised I’d skate with the kids’ hockey and we’ve got the preview show tonight before team skate and I...”

“Slow.” Geno moaned, rubbing his head against the door. Maybe Sid really had woken him up too early, his English didn’t seem to have kicked in yet. He reached out to grab at Sid, flailing a little until he caught Sid’s arm then tightening his grip and pulling. “In. Coffee.”

“I don’t have time for coffee. I’ve got...”

“Sid. Coffee.”

Sid sighed, then stepped into Geno’s place. Often it seemed like the path of least resistance was to do what Geno wanted as quickly as possible. He dropped his bag by the door. “Fine, coffee. You go change, I’ll make it.”

Geno grunted but he must have had enough English to follow that at least as he stumbled off into his bedroom and Sid made himself turn and head to the kitchen.

Structurally, Geno’s apartment was identical to his. Living room at the front, kitchen diner, the long hallway to the bedroom and the bathroom tagged onto the back. Not a perfect layout but it was fine. Yet somehow, Geno’s looked more lived in. It was stupid since they’d been there exactly the same amount of time but somehow Geno had managed to fill his space, to hang pictures and display ornaments. To buy a throw rug and drape a blanket over the chair. Sid had a few things but this...

Maybe he should start coming up here more instead of Geno always coming to him.

It was easy enough to find the coffee, though Geno’s coffee maker took some working out. He’d clearly had it shipped over, or got it from a Russian friend, as none of the dials were in English and it looked about a thousand years old. Still, by the time Geno came back in dressed for the gym, Sid had managed to coax a couple of cups of coffee out of it.

“Coffee,” Geno said when he saw it, almost reverently. “Sid, you best.”

“Yeah,” Sid said, and Geno was suddenly there, hugs and Russian and pushing right into his space, reaching for the cup. Pressing up all along Sid’s side. Close enough that if Sid turned, just a little...

Then he was pulling back, cup cradled carefully in his hands. Sid grabbed his own cup quickly, taking a sip though the liquid was really too hot to drink just yet.

It was going to be a long day.

***

The thing was, Sid was used to the AHL. The AHL wasn’t the NHL, not by any stretch, but they had certain amenities that the elite league didn’t seem to. They had a budget, to start with. They had better access to the ice that didn’t involve working around when the rink needed it for family sessions. They had offices for the coaches.

“Here’s your coffee,” Coach said, passing the cup over, and Sid was really drinking too much of this today. He was already stressed enough about registering with college later, had checked the email over and over to make sure he knew where he was going and when. But the options had been cramming into the corner of a shared office with Janet taking calls and booking for skating courses in the corner, or a drive through McDonald’s coffee in Coach’s car.

“Thanks, coach.”

“No problem,” Coach said, taking his own coffee out of the cardboard holder. “And thanks for meeting with me like this.”

“Any time.”

Coach nodded. “That’s one of the things I like about you, Sid. You’re a good man. Hard working. You give a lot of the team.”

Sid let himself smile. “I try.”

“I know. I just want to touch bases, really. To check in. I was wondering how things are going with the C.”

“Great.” Sid’s hand drifted up to where the letter would be if he was wearing jersey. “Really, really great. I mean, I know things are still a little wobbly but I feel like we’re making real progress. Really starting to believe.”

“I agree,” Coach nodded. “I didn’t expect us to be top of the league out of the gate. There’s a reason we brought you in on a three year uni deal. We’re not going to turn this team around overnight. We’re gonna get ‘em there, though. We’re investing in them. Building a future.”

“Oh, for sure. I mean, I’ve seen a few of the highlight reels from last year and, I mean, I know a lot of the guys have changed but even those who’ve stayed...”

“Actually, that’s what I need to talk to you about. The guys who’ve stayed.”

Sid paused a second. “You mean Nick?”

“I mean Nick. Look, Sid, I don’t want to step on your toes but I’ve watched you try to talk to him a few times now. What’s going on?”

“I mean, isn’t it obvious?” Sid asked, rolling the coffee cup between his palms. “He hates me. I’ve taken his C.”

“Guys around here lose their C’s all the time. New talent comes in, coaches change, he had to know it was coming.”

“I mean, that’s all I know about. He’s hardly having heart to hearts with me, Coach.”

“No, I see,” Coach said, then he sighed heavily. “If I can be honest, Sid, without it making it all the way around the locker room, we were pretty sure when I signed that Nick was going to retire. I spoke to the coach here before me, not a bad man but exhausted, and he told me Nick was done. He’d been talking about buying into his brother-in-law’s building firm and moving further up north somewhere. I’d been all ready to let him go, but he didn’t. And he’s been here forever. I didn’t want to get fans upset by forcing him...”

“It’s a tough situation.”

“Yeah. I can’t give him the C. That’s a pretty sure way of us losing. He’s not got the belief. Really, Sid, I’m thinking of taking his A.”

For a second, Sid sat and stared out of the window. In a weird way, it made sense. Nick wasn’t pulling his weight. He skipped practice. He wasn’t learning the new systems. He’d been playing on the fourth line and his attitude...

But it didn’t sit right.

“You sure you want to do that, Coach? You’ve got another A to give out, yet. You don’t need to take it.”

“I’d have thought you’d have been eager for an A who’ll actually help you out.”

“I mean, I have Geno. I just... I’m not sure what his deal is but I think you take that A, we’re going to lose him completely. If he has a bit more time...”

“If we carry him a bit longer, you mean?”

“Yeah. I think maybe he’ll come around. It’ll be good for him if he does. For the team.”

Coach sat for a second, staring out the window, and Sid watched him. Watched the shadows of his face. He didn’t envy the decisions he had to make.

“I’ll give him a little longer,” Coach said, slowly. “You’re right, I should give out the other A first. The owner’s been on my back about it. Any thought about who deserves it?”

Sid relaxed. This was something he could talk about for hours.

***

Sid wasn’t surprised when he opened his door to find Geno. He was surprised that Geno seemed to be carrying two giant bags of frozen pizzas. 

“Where did you get those?” he said, stepping back. “Did you make Danno drive you to Asda on the way back from training?” 

“Is not make if he get too.” Geno headed straight to the kitchen, of course, like he owned the place. “How was college?” 

“It was good. I’m all registered, anyway. Classes don’t actually start until next week.” 

“So smart,” Geno called, his voice almost drowned out by the clanking of Sid’s oven opening. “I’m think we fit two pizza in at time, have to work fast for feed many hockey player.” 

“How many people do you think will actually show up?” Sid asked, wandering over to the kitchen. Geno was searching through his cupboards and if he expected to find anything more exciting there then a few cups and plates he was going to be disappointed. 

“Whole team!” 

“I mean, not the whole team.” Sid worried his lip. “Nick won’t. And it’s not like everyone else doesn’t have their own TVs. Dylan was talking about having a few guys over and getting beers in…” It had honestly been what had prompted Sid to give in. The thought of a house full of people didn’t fill him with joy but Callum had been asking and then when Dylan had started talking about alcohol…

They still had skate after this. A TV highlights show was no excuse for them to miss a practice. 

“Best people will,” Geno said. “You’re not have cups. Plates.” 

“I have four plates. That’s plenty for me.” 

“Sid…” 

“We can bring yours down, that’s eight.” 

“Yes,” Geno said, glancing up like it’d slipped his mind that he lived up there. “Some of my cushions too for sit, maybe.” 

“Sure,” Sid agreed. “But later. I’ve gotta get out of here. I promised I’d skate with the youth team.” 

Geno pulled a face. “Worst, Sid. We’re have no time.” 

“We’ll have plenty of time. How long can it take?” Geno gave him an unimpressed look. Honestly, all they needed to do was bring a few things down from Geno’s. It wasn’t like they needed to decorate or anything. 

It was a one hour recap show. They’d be on the screen for less then five minutes. 

Geno was looking at him like he’d taken up kicking puppies for a hobby. 

“Fine,” he said, fishing his keys out of his pocket. “Just don’t, like, trash my place or whatever.” 

“Best, Sid,” Geno said, grinning. “You’re no regret.” 

***

Sid kind of wished he hadn’t agreed to skate with the kids. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t like kids, he loved kids. Give him ice full of kids half his size zooming around him, earnestly asking him what the NHL was like and taking pointers on how to hold their stick, that’d be adorable. 

This was less so. 

“Paul,” David Carey yelled, banging on the glass again. “Check him.” 

Paul, for his part, looked like he’d quite like the ice directly below him to melt and swallow him up. Sid didn’t blame him. As soon as the kids had taken the ice, David had been there at the glass. He hadn’t let up. Paul was small, fast, not as agile as he could be. He was mostly awkward, but occasionally he did something well and his father would even shout over that, tell him how it could be even better. 

Sid felt for him. His dad had always been supportive. He’d pushed him, but he’d been there for him too. Congratulated him. Sat with him as he cried when he’d realised that he wasn’t even really going to make the NHL. 

Paul obviously wasn’t getting that. 

“Hey,” Sid said, catching the attention of Eddy, playing coach for this session. “Have you not thought about banning parents.” 

Eddy snorted. “We’d love to. Carey’s put a lot of money into this place, makes him think he owns it. Makes a lot of people think he owns it. We’ve broached it a few times but somehow the conversation always ends up being about what we can do to get his kid on the team.” 

Sid snorted. Across the ice, a puck sailed past the end of Paul’s stick, leaving him scrambling. David yelled. 

“He’s not making the team.” 

“Not on merit, no,” Eddy sighed. “But the rink isn’t the only thing Carey puts money into.” 

“Shit.” 

“Yeah,” Eddy nodded. “It’s a shame because the kid’s nice. Friendly. Not a hockey player but…” 

“Yeah,” Sid agreed. A few of the kids on the ice had the chance. They had good hands, good eyes. They worked hard. 

“I guess there’s no point in talking to David?” 

Eddy shook his head. “Best just to get on with it. Come on, let’s get some drills going.” 

Sid nodded, shoving off the boards and skating away to round up some teenagers. For a second he met Paul’s eye, but the boy turned away quickly, misery in his shoulders. 

***

Sid could hear noise as soon as he got out of his car. The neighbours were going to hate them. He thought, for a second, about turning round and going back to the rink. It’d been a long day, he could meet them back at the ice rink. Maybe he could just sit in the quiet in the locker room and listen to a podcast for a hour. 

Only Callum was there in his window, waving at him, and Sid had no choice but to get out of the car and head over. 

His living room was crowded. Apparently when he’d estimated eight tops, he’d been a little off. Callum found him right away, slinging an arm around his shoulder and talking a mile a minute about how nice it was to have them all together and how awesome it was to just relax and wasn’t this great? 

Sid couldn’t disagree. The atmosphere was good. People chatting in groups, even people he wouldn’t have expected. Dylan and their other two young Canadians weren’t there, and Nick of course. Eddy was still back at the rink dealing with some admin stuff but it felt like everyone else was there, actually enjoying each other’s company. It was nice. 

It didn’t take long to make eye contact with Geno. 

Geno grinned at him, waving him over, and Sid went. Geno stood as Sid got closer, disturbing the people around him. 

“Sid,” he said, voice a little too loud. “Come. I’m save you seat, pizza.” 

“Thanks,” Sid said. Geno held out a soggy-looking napkin and Sid took it, cradling it close despite it being objectively a little disgusting. Peeling the paper back he found two slices of pizza, still warm. Then he watched Geno step out of the way, leaving his seat to Sid. 

“Oh, it’s fine,” he said, his mother’s training kicking in. “You sit. I’ll stand.” 

“Your house, Sid. You sit.” 

“If I sit, you’re not going to have a seat.” 

“Sit,” Geno insisted, grabbing Sid’s elbow. “I’m have plan.” 

It wasn’t like Sid could really refuse. 

He jammed himself into the available space, just, and he’d taken a first bite of the pizza when Geno folded himself down to the floor in front of Sid. He wiggled a little, settling in, then leant right back, pressing himself against Sid’s legs. 

Sid swallowed. 

He needed to get out, sometime soon. Because he should not find the warmth of Geno’s back, the way Geno’s head rolled back to rest on his legs so Geno could smile that crooked smile up at him through lowered eyelashes, so effecting. 

“You okay up there, bud?” he asked. 

“Yes.” 

And then Sid was saved from saying anything else as the highlights from their game came on and the team began to cheer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to ghost-toast for beta reading!
> 
> This week's league update -  
> Saturday 22nd - Dundee Stars 3 - 4 Liverpool Liver OTW (League)  
> Sunday 23rd - Liverpool Liver 1 - 2 Nottingham Panthers (Challenge cup) 
> 
> And, as promised, here is the elite league results table in the universe where the Liverpool Liver exist. 
> 
>  


	8. Saturday 19th September

The puck hit the back and the net and that familiar surge of adrenaline came crashing over Sid. He turned, whooping, arms open, and Geno crashed right into him, the rest of the powerplay unit not far behind. A roar went up from the crowd, almost deafening. Enough to get Sid to look up. At the start of the season, they were struggling to fill a quarter of the seats. As he looked up, Geno’s arm heavy around his shoulders, he saw they were well on their way to half full. Maybe it was just because the season was really getting underway, but maybe it was something else. 

They broke apart, heading to the bench for fist bumps, but Geno stayed a little longer, pressing Sid to his side. 

“Good goal, Captain.” 

“Yeah,” Sid grinned. “Pretty nice assist, too. We make a good team.” 

“Best,” Geno agreed, patting his head and finally disengaging. As he did Sid looked up, took in the fans, dancing, chanting. He picked out a few faces he knew, kids who skated here and people who came to supporter events, and waved at them. They waved back, shouting. Screaming, really. 

A two goal cushion with three minutes to go. Fife would probably pull their goalie if they got a chance but two goals was a lot to make up. And their thursday win over Sheffield was going to make it two wins in a row, not bad for a team who had four wins total last season. 

He finally reached the bench and went down the line, bumping fists with everyone. Well, everyone other than Nick but that was understandable. He wasn’t going to let that drag him down today, not when they were winning. 

***

“Okay guys, okay. Simmer down.” 

Even with coach making his toughest face it took a few minutes before there was actually anything like quiet in the room. Sid had passed out the beers he’d been given for winning man of the match and a couple of the younger guys had been busy spraying each other with them,igh off a win that everyone thought was going to be a loss. 

“Good game,” Coach said, and he looked genuinely happier than Sid had ever seen him. “There’s stuff to work on, don’t get me wrong, but you looked good out there, boys. You looked like a team that knows what it’s doing. A team of winners.” 

This got him a woop, started by Callum of course, though a group of the other guys joined him. Sid sat back and grinned. 

“You should be happy. Just remember, we fly to Belfast in the morning and we’re playing the Giants tomorrow. Maybe save your celebration until then.” 

“Sure, Coach,” Dylan said, a quirk to his grin that suggested the opposite. Sid rolled his eyes. 

“Come on, guys. I mean, celebrate a little now but the Giants aren’t an easy game and we’re already tired. If we show up there tomorrow with hangovers they’re going to wipe the ice with us.” 

“What?” that was Nick, scowl firmly in place. “Are you not going to single-handedly save us with your power play goals?” 

The room got a degree quieter, people stilling. Even Callum seemed frozen for a second, waiting to see what Sid would do. Sid rolled his eyes. “Hockey’s a team sport, that’s why you get points for assists. We’re only as good as the worst guy out there. So have a drink, as in one, work off some adrenaline then get some rest. Tomorrow we can try for a three game streak.” 

“Yeah,” Callum shouted, pumping the air. “Three game streak.” 

The volume rose again, situation diffused. Nick turned his back but Sid let that wash over him, too. He had to, there was too much to focus on without Nick’s dramatics. 

***

Sid made sure he was the last player out of the building. 

The guys, despite his warning, were going out drinking. He hadn’t been able to face it but Geno had magnanimously offered to go and look after them. Sid thought he’d see how magnanimous it was when he found out what time Geno got home. He always woke Sid up, slamming his door and clomping up the stairs. 

Not that Sid really minded. If he did, he’d wear earplugs. In a way it was comforting, knowing Geno was home safe. 

So Geno was out watching the kids and Sid got to stay, to thank everyone personally, help with some clean up, generally make a bit of a nuisance of himself in making sure that everyone in the building knew they were part of this victory. It was theirs, too. 

He left the last of the staff locking up and headed out to find his car. 

The car park was almost deserted. Sid was towards the back. He had a spot, the spot he’d parked in the night they’d won their first home game. Geno laughed at him for it, but it didn’t hurt to keep a few superstitions. He’d been worse when he was a kid but it was hard to maintain a superstition when nobody else humoured you in it. 

He headed to his car, unlocked it, threw his gear in, then paused. His gaze had landed on another car. He didn’t even know why, a few of the guys had left their cars, piling into taxis under Geno’s watchful eye. But this car…

It was Nick’s. And Nick hadn’t gone out drinking. 

Sid glanced around the car park. It was pretty dark, though the lights meant he could at least see in the window. There was no reason to look, no reason to go over, but something felt wrong. 

He walked slowly, like someone might emerge from the shadows any second to ask him what he was doing. He leant in, glancing through the window. 

He pulled back pretty quickly. Someone, Nick presumably, was curled up on the back seat, wrapped up in blankets. Asleep, maybe. Or awake and hopefully they hadn’t seen Sid but definitely intending to sleep. 

Sid backed up a few steps. He should probably have knocked on the door. Should have asked Nick what was up, offered him a place to sleep. If it had been anyone else… but something was wrong here. There were reasons that Nick might sleep in his car for a night. Maybe he had had a falling out with his wife, maybe he just couldn’t be bothered with driving back home then driving all the way back for the bus to their early flight. 

Sid backed up to his car and slid into the seat. Nick wouldn’t want Sid to be the one to find him, to see this vulnerability. Hell, Nick might never forgive Sid for being the one to see him like this, especially given who they were to each other. 

The drive home was long and quiet. It gave him plenty of time to think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter this time and no standing, sorry. I'm doing an ill. Standings again next week.


	9. Sunday 14th October

Sunday 14th October 2018

“Sid!” 

“Hey,” Sid didn’t look up from his ipad. “Good nap?” 

“Okay,” Geno grumbled, slumping his way into the room. Sid gave him half an ear, most of his attention on the footage from the night before’s game in Nottingham. Sheffield had a new coach and hadn’t he heard enough about that drama for one lifetime. Tom Barasso, no less, who Sidney remembered watching winning his two Stanley Cup rings on TV. Still, a new coach couldn’t change things overnight and the way the Panthers were running circles around them on his ipad made him kind of hopeful they’d be able to do the same that night. 

“Sid, you listen?” 

He glanced up and Geno was closer than he’d anticipated. On the screen, a guy in a Panthers jersey immediately answered the Steeler’s second goal with a third for the home team. 

“I’m say we make mac and cheese. Is good pre-game meal.” 

“I don’t think it is,” Sid grumbled, but he did put the ipad down. “Why are you even invading my apartment. You can cook.” 

“Am worst cook,” Geno said, doing his best to look hangdog about it. It was blatantly untrue, of the two of them Geno was by far the most competent in the kitchen, but it was a decent excuse. 

“I guess I’ll have to save you from yourself.” Sid levered himself up from the couch and, for a second, he was stood right there in Geno’s space, bodies pressed close together. It might have been awkward, charged, if Geno hadn’t thrown his arm around Sid, pulling him in like this was perfectly normal. Like bros did this kind of thing every day. 

“Yes, save from self. Mac and cheese.” 

“We’re not just eating mac and cheese. I mean, we’re at least having a salad too. Nutrients are important. And I guess we can put nuts in it for protein, or chicken. I think I’ve still got some of those chicken breast pieces I got in yesterday.” 

“Yes, everything,” Geno said, using his arm around Sid’s shoulders to steer him towards the kitchen. “And three cheeses.” 

“Who says I even have three cheeses.” He definitely had three cheeses. He knew what Geno liked. 

“Why you’re hurt me like this, Sid?” 

“Hurt you, I’m helping you! The Steelers are going to crush you into the boards if you’re not careful and you don’t want to be full of pasta when they do that.” 

“Maybe I’m throw up on them. Only make their jersey looks better.” 

Sid snorted because, yes, bright orange wasn’t really a great look on anyone. “Don’t deliberately throw up on the other players.” 

“No fun, Sid.” They reached the kitchen and Geno finally disengaged, stretching and slouching back against Sid’s doorway. “But if Captain say not to do, I’m not do.” 

“I wish you took that attitude when I tell you not to take stupid penalties,” Sid grumbed, pulling open a cupboard. “And don’t think you’re just standing there either. I’m not cooking all by myself. You can start grating the cheese.” 

“Yes, Captain,” Geno said, reaching over to open the fridge. 

The problem with Geno helping was that the kitchen was pretty small and both of them were pretty big guys. Sid tried to keep himself out of the way, pushing up against the counters to give Geno room to maneuver, but Geno didn’t seem to mind. He’d just casually wrap his hands around Sid’s hips and shift him out of the way. Back a step, forward a little. 

Sid was generally a pretty solid guy and he looked it. People didn’t tend to just reach over and move him to where they wanted him. He kind of liked it, though. 

“You’re think we win tonight?” Geno asked, voice low, one hand on Sid’s hip while the other stole strands of grated cheese. 

“Sure. I mean, there’s no reason we can’t. We beat Milton Keynes last night.” 

Geno hummed in agreement. “Two home games, guys are gonna feel good. Are gonna want go out drink after. You come with?” 

“I guess,” Sid sighed. It had been a while and he wasn’t, like, anti-social or anything. He’d just gotten used to being one of the older guys in the team. Where he was last year, there had been all these kids looking for their call up then the guys like him. The guys who weren’t just waiting for the NHL, but who were AHL lifers. Who’d given up waiting for the call and were happy to settle. They used to go to each others’ houses and play video games, eat the meals their wives and girlfriends cooked, sometimes even eat a meal they made themselves though Sid’s limited repertoire of dishes made him the culinary expert in most hockey circles. 

It had been a good life. 

“I’m know you’re not like noise, drunken Liverpool hard to understand. But you’re do this, maybe we’re do little house party in week. Maybe have guys over. Good for team, anyway. Have TV Game next week.” 

“Oh god, don’t remind me about that,” Sid groaned. Callum hadn’t shut up about it. “And it’s the Storm.” 

“We at home, though. We’re have advantage. We’re have good rest, good team build, play good match.” 

“Fine,” Sid said. “I’ll go out tonight.” 

“Best, Sid,” Geno said, stealing another handful of cheese. “I’m make sure you not regret.” 

***

“I just, it went right in, you know. I didn’t think it would but it went right in.” Callum seemed so sincere that Sid could only nod. 

“It sure did, bud. Think maybe you could use a glass of water?” 

“Maybe,” he said, swinging on his chair. “But… it was so full. I’ve never seen so many people cheering for me.” 

“Callum, such lightweight.” Geno landed on Sid’s back, because he always did. He pressed Sid forward into the bar, his breath hot in Sid’s ear. “How much you have? Two beer?” 

“A lot more than that,” Callum protested, a flush rising up his neck. “We can’t all be Russians!” 

“I’m suppose I let it go this time, since you’re score such good goal.” 

“I know,” Callum said, face lighting back up again. “Did you see it? Wasn’t it a beauty?” 

“I’m see,” Geno said, shifting back a little, creating a small escape route for Sid, both physically and conversationally. “But maybe you’re tell me about it again, then I’m make such good goal.” 

Sid took the chance. It had been a good goal, but there were limits. 

The guys were scattered around the pub. Most of the time Sid wasn’t too bothered about the fact he was in another country. He’d spent so much of his life between Canada and America that sometimes he forgot which one was actually home and most of the time, England wasn’t that foreign. Sure, there were the accents and the chip shops and things but it was just a place. But, sometimes, he really felt it. In this pub, he really felt it. 

The place seemed to ooze age. It was full of dark wood. Paneling on the walls, benches built in, bar stools topped with worn fabric, and little round tables marked with generations of beer rings, people ignoring the copious cardboard coasters. There was a sense that everything was covered with a layer of stale smoke, impregnated into the wood back when it was still legal to smoke inside and reluctant to give up its birthright even after all this time. The bar dominated the room, running a lazy loop through the middle, the remaining space loosely divided into sections to better create a sense of seclusion. The beer choices were made at the pumps, brightly coloured signs on each one, or on the blackboard, scrawled in an indecipherable hand with percentage by volume next to it. 

He might as well be in India for how familiar this place was. 

Paulie, one of the brits, caught his eye. Sid sighed in relief and made his way over, pint glass clutched tight in his hand. 

“Hey,” Paulie cheered when he got closer, reaching out to slap Sid on the shoulder. “If it isn’t the Captain.” 

Sid realised too late that none of the figures huddled around the small tabled were other teammates. In his defense, with their backs to him, it was hard to tell. 

“Hey,” Sid said, determined to make an effort anyway. “Good game tonight.” 

“A belter,” Paulie said, nodding. “Bloody showed them.” 

“Right,” one of the guys around the table agreed. He was a little older, round, with a mess of facial hair that seemed to suggest neglect more than design. “I’m Dan, this guy’s brother. We were there for the game tonight.” 

“Oh, yeah. You get to the games a lot?” 

This seemed to be just the conversation starter they needed as they were off. Dan made a fair few games but his girlfriend didn’t like it and that earned her some teasing. The others, Sid soon discovered, were a collection of relatives and childhood friends and he found himself squeezed in between Rick-from-football-camp and Cousin Nicola, whose top was dangerously low and heels were dangerously high. 

She kept leaning over, pressing himself against his arm, laughing too loudly at the things he said, even when they weren’t exactly jokes. He forced himself to smile at her. To lean back a little. He knew this dance. 

He’d much rather be leaning into Rick-from-football-camp, even factoring in the contribution he was making to the stench of sweat and stale cigarettes.But he knew his place. 

Eventually the group moved on from hockey and Sid extracted himself, patting Nicola a little too high on the leg, giving her a wink, and promising to be back soon. 

The pub had filled more, bodies packing in, and Sid took it as an excuse to slide away and head to the bathroom. It was still small and cramped in there but he got to slide into a stall and take a second just to breath, to collect himself, before he was back out and in the room. In the crush and the noise and the eyes on him. 

When he came out of his stall, Paulie was waiting by the sinks. 

“Alright?” he asked, nodding and avoiding eye contact. Sid’s heart sank. 

“Yeah. Are you.” 

“Sure, ‘course mate,” Paulie said, glancing around. “I just wanted to catch you, if I could. Have a chat. Just for a second.” 

“Sure,” Sid said, making sure to keep his voice level. “You can always talk to me about anything.” 

“It’s not… It’s just, Nicola, right?” 

“Sure. She seems nice.” 

“Yeah but, she’s my cousin, right? And, like, I know she’s been through a messy breakup and deserves to get out there and you’re a good bloke, I’m not saying you’re not a good bloke but…” 

Sid got it. “Don’t worry. I’m don’t sleep with teammates’ families.” That wasn’t actually true, not always. He knew it was stupid to sleep with teammates’ families but there had been the one guy. His brother being in the AHL meant he got it and he was always just there. 

Not Nicola, though. 

“Great,” Paulie said, obviously relaxing a little. “I mean, no offense, I could just see it making things weird in the locker room.” 

“No, I definitely get it. I wouldn’t hook up with someone important like that. Team comes first.” 

“Yeah,” Paulie agreed, happy enough to reach out and pat Sid’s shoulder. “Team comes first.” 

After that it was a bit of an awkward shuffle and Sid was back out in the bar. He looked around, spotted a few of the team. Callum had apparently shed Geno and was doing shots with Dylan by the bar. Sid wasn’t sure what Dylan had to celebrate about, he’d been moved down a line, but for some people life was a party. There was a group in the back, another by some kind of quiz machine, jeering loudly and getting unwelcoming glances. 

But he couldn’t see Geno. 

Which was fine, it wasn’t like he was Geno’s keeper. Geno had scored a goal and got two assists, he deserved to be having fun. 

It was just that suddenly the bar felt very small and very close and Sid would have really loved to see a familiar face. 

Luckily, the toilets were near the door to the outside and he slipped out, letting it shut behind him. The clarity of the night air helped and he breathed in deep, leaning back against the wall for a second. 

Then some movement caught his eye. 

It was Geno, and for a second he felt lighter, until he realised what Geno was doing. 

Of course, Geno deserved to have fun. To have whatever kind of fun he wanted. To back Cousin Nicola up against the wall outside the pub with his hands, hands that had been on Sid so many times, had made themselves at home on his hips, his back, now curving themselves around her flesh instead, learning her. It was ridiculous to feel anything about that, to feel lied to or cheated. Sure, Geno was his friend, but that wasn’t much. Didn’t mean much. Of course Geno wanted to make out with beautiful women on back streets. Why wouldn’t he? 

Sid let himself back into the pub. He stood for a second, looking around. He didn’t want to be here. But he wasn’t going to run. Not now. 

Instead, he went to find Paulie. It was only right. Only being a good friend. He’d just told Sid he didn’t want anyone hitting on his cousin so of course he’d want to know. 

And then Sid was going to drink a hell of a lot of shots. He’d earned them. 

***

That night, he lay in bed, below Geno, not listening to the banging on Geno’s bed against the wall, the sounds of sex dripping down between the floorboards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wobbly update schedule. I aged last week so dragged a group of friends down to see the Panthers vs Steeler's game I have Sid watch at the start of this chapter. Glad to say the Panthers managed to win. Should be back to something marginally more regular now.


	10. Thursday 18th October

Thursday 18th October 2018

Sid woke with a start to a bang on the floor above him. He lay there for a moment, blinking in the hazy light creeping through the curtains, before glancing over at his alarm clock. 9 am, basically a lie in. He groaned a little, stretched, then collapsed back onto the mattress. 

Above him, Geno creaked his way across his room, probably to go to the bathroom to shower. Sid closed his eyes for a second and let himself dwell on that. Geno under the water, his head tilted back, looking like something out of a softcore porn. He let himself trace imaginary droplets of water over the tender skin of Geno’s throat, down to pool at his collar. Let himself imagine reaching out to brush them away, to lick them away. 

There was another bang above him. Geno was apparently done already, his feet heavy on the floor as he made his way around the room. Sid stopped with his hand halfway to his cock. 

This was getting out of hand. He clearly needed to get laid. 

Above, the sounds of a voice started to drift down. Soft and indistinct but with that speed which meant Geno was probably speaking Russian. Which made sense, now Sid’s brain was catching up with the rest of him. Geno was going out with some Russian friends he’d managed to make locally, somehow, because they had nothing on today. No practice, no game. And because last night they beat the Storm. At home. On live TV. 

They’d been out drinking after, obviously. Sid had half expected Geno to pick up again, had been watching for it out of the corner of his eye while he chatted with the guys and tried to keep Dylan from pouring too much vodka into Callum. He hadn’t, though. He’d stayed with them the entire evening; making stupid jokes and helping them all feel good. Feel like a team. 

Geno’s footsteps moved away. Sid let his hand drift down, finally, but the impulse was gone now. No mood. 

It was fine, he’d take care of that later. He’d earned it. The game the night before had been chippy, their win hard-fought. He’d taken a bad check from Springer and his shoulder ached. He deserved a little time for itself. 

And it wasn’t like it’d be hard here, the city hardly seemed to know they existed. He’d started his lectures expecting it to be weird but spent most of his time explaining what the hell ice hockey was. Still, he’d seen a few of the folk from his class waving from the stands at the last game so at least some of them were listening. 

He rolled out of bed reluctantly, stretching and yawning. Geno came barreling down the stairs, throwing his door opening and closing it again with a bang. For once he didn’t turn straight round and hammer on Sid’s door. Didn’t come crowding into Sid’s space demanding that Sid feed him, to entertain him or pay attention to him. And that was good, great. Sid didn’t have time for Geno, not today. 

Instead he was going to take a long shower, drink a protein shake, work on his reading for class and think about what he was going to wear that night and where he was going to go. 

***

Most of the time, Sid kind of hated the internet. He was pretty private and it seemed that, these days, the entire world wanted him to share everything about himself constantly. Taylor was always bugging him to post more on facebook, his mom wanted him to get an instagram and start taking selfies, which she apparently did with abandon. All the guys on his old team were on snapchat and everyone here was on whatsapp, both of which he had largely ignored. 

But there were some good things about the internet and one of them was that he left the house that evening with a list of gay bars in Liverpool to try. 

He started in the Lisbon, which was another entirely British pub. He might have mistaken it for any other of the man pubs his teammates had dragged him through in their quest for ‘the best real ale’ if it weren’t for all the queer people. The second he walked through the door and took it all in, men and women and every other variation mixing with each other, the old married men leaning against each other’s shoulders in the corner, the lesbian at the bar making eyes at the girl in the red lipstick, the kid holding court on a bar stool, grinning and relaxed and in their element, some weight Sid didn’t even normally notice slid from his shoulders and he could suddenly fill his lungs all the way again. 

He made his way through to the bar and got a drink. A group of older lesbians in flannel adopted him briefly. They passed him on to an older gentleman with a top hat and too much beer on his belly who wanted to talk about voting reform and from there he was somehow ambushed by a group of scouse lads who wanted to touch his hair which apparently had too much gel in it. 

The alcohol kept flowing, Sid kept finding layers of tension easing away. In here, he was safe. He was anonymous. 

What he wasn’t was getting laid. 

The night crawled on and that became clearer and clearer. While the old married couple were adorable and their stories of being gay in liverpool in the 70s and 80s were fascinating, made Sid’s fingers itch for a pen to record them for future essays, that wasn’t why he was here. 

He went back to the bar, glass in hand, and his eyes landed on one of the lads from before. He was settled in his hand hand around his boyfriend, but he looked like the kind who’d know the kind of thing Sid needed. 

He gathered up his courage and went over. 

“Hey,” he said, “I’m sorry to disturb you.” 

“Alreight,” the guy said, grinning and stretching back in his chair. “Pull up a chair, mate.” 

“Thanks,” Sid said, casting around for a bar stool. None were immediately evident but, well, he didn’t plan on staying. “I won’t, if that’s okay. I mean, I’m not trying to be rude, I was just wondering if you could help me. This places is awesome but I was looking for something a little more… dancey?” 

“You’re on the pull?” the boyfriend asked, cracking a grin. 

“Yeah. I guess I am.” 

“I mean, you can pick up in here,” the first guy said, glancing around, “I’ve got some friends. But, really, you want to go to one of the clubs.” 

“Yeah,” Sid nodded. Normally he’d like nothing less, he hated he noise, the anonymity of it. In any other life, Sid would want to be in here, building connections and community. Making friends, hoping one of them would be more. 

But, then, if he was wishing, maybe he’d have Geno here with him. Maybe he be able to lean back into Geno’s shoulder while the old couple had been telling him their stories, let Geno steer the conversations, curve a possessing hand around Sid’s hip, not care that people could and would see them, love Sid enough that he didn’t care what anyone saw. 

If he was wishing. 

“There’s the Navy, up the street. And the Superstar Boudoir,” the boyfriend listed. “I mean, there are others around town but those two are the closest and I mean,” his eyes brushed over Sid appreciatively, “You should find something.” 

“Thanks,” Sid said, ducking his head to hide his blush. “I’ll see you around, maybe.” 

The guys smiled, nodded, and Sid pushed his way back through the crowd. He left his glass on a table when he passed and stumbled out into the air, still unseasonably warm. 

Now, later, in the dark, it didn’t take him long to find the clubs. He followed the noise down the street, turned and corner, and there they were. Bright drag queens on impossibly high heels, lit up signs, guys with hungry eyes that practically promised a quick and dirty fuck down an alley. 

Sid braced himself and headed into it. 

Superstar Boudoir was the first of the clubs he came to so he let himself be pulled down the stairs. The crowd was humming to the beat of the music, shifting and swaying as one and it was easy to let himself be caught by them, pulled into the beat. It was easy to slide his hand over one man’s hip, press against him and dance for a moment until the movement of the floor shifted them and another man was plastered along his back, a hand sliding into Sid’s back pocket. Sid ground back against him, let his head roll back a little so the man’s cheek was there, near his. He was tall, but not as tall as Geno. If it were Geneo, Sid would be able to rest his head on Geno’s shoulder…

But Sid wasn’t thinking about Geno. 

He turned in the man’s arms, ran his hands over barely concealed flesh, lent in and pressed their lips together. It was best like this, all bodies talking. Less chance the man would want a genuine connection. 

Then Sid’s eyes caught on someone familiar. 

He paused, pulled back a little. That couldn’t be right. Only it was. Tooked in a corner, eye darting around like he was looking for an escape route, was Paul. Paul who was never going to skate well enough for the NHL. Paul who Sid watched try and try and never be enough for his dad. Paul who was looking up at the older man hemming him in with an uncertain smile, his body angled away. 

Fuck. He was only seventeen. He definitely wasn’t meant to be in here. 

“Sorry,” Sid said, pushing he man still grinding against him away. He looked offended for a second but then backed up and Sid was free to move, to head to Paul’s table. 

Paul saw him coming a little way out and his entire face lit up. “Sid,” he said, shoving at the guy boxing him in. “Sid, you recognise me?” 

“Hey, Paul.” Sid stepped right up, shoving into the other man’s space and getting a dark look for his trouble. “What are you doing out here?” 

“The same thing as you.” He pouted in a way that was probably meant to be sexy but needed some work. “This guy is… he’s David, right?” 

“Right,” the man said, predatory smile in place. “So fuck off.” 

“Yeah, no,” Sid said, desperately wishing he could. “Paul, you’re not even meant to be in here. Come on, let’s get you home.” 

“God no,” Paul said, the colour dropping out of his face. “I’m not going home. I’m crashing with friends tonight.” 

“Okay,” Sid said, calmly. He stepped closer, took Paul’s shoulder and eased him out of the corner a little. “Then you can crash on my couch. You’re drunk.” That much was obvious from the lazy roll of his voice, the sway in his body as Sid pulled him upright. He wasn’t in any fit state to make any decisions.” 

“Hey,” David, said, obviously seeing him chance slip away. “He can crash at mine. I’ll take care of him.” 

“I’m a family friend,” Sid said. Paul seemed happy enough, now, to lean into his side. He weighed more that it seemed but it was still easy enough for Sid to maneuver him. “Just drop it, okay. He’s too young to even be in here. There are plenty of other guys.” 

A second of tension, then David snorted and turned away, losing himself back in the crowd and the press of bodies. Sid watched him with envy for a second. Let his eyes wander back to the man he’d been pressed against before who was now plastered all over another guy. He looked good. Strong. He looked like he’d be able to push Sid down into a mattress and fuck him for hours. 

Maybe next time. 

The night air was losing even the heat it had earlier. It didn’t take Sid long to find them a taxi. Paul protested a little, tried to argue for staying out, but he was having trouble keeping to his feet and, in the end, gave in with only the minimum of teenage drama. 

Sid gave his address then sat back. 

They rode in silence for a while. 

“Hey.” It was Paul who broke the silence first. “Sorry I ruined your night.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Sid sighed. “There’ll be other nights.” 

“Yeah,” Paul sighed. Then, with no further warm-up, “What’s it like being gay in the NHL?” 

“I only played three games.” 

“Yeah, but…” 

“It kind of sucked,” Sid admitted with a sigh. “Whatever the guys talking to the press say, I’ve never been in a locker room where I felt like it’d be okay to come out. You Can Play’s so much hot air when the guy next to you’s go-to insult is ‘cock sucking faggot’.” 

“Even here?” 

Sid paused. “I mean, here I’m Captain. I try to crack down on guys who say that stuff. Not just the homophobic stuff but all the other shit they shouldn’t be saying. They’re normally pretty good. Dylan, though…” 

“He’s mean?” Paul looked a little heart broken. “But he’s so hot.” 

“Yeah, best to learn early that just because a guy’s hot doesn’t mean you should actually fuck him. Take a kind, considerate guy over a hot guy any day.” 

Paul squinted at him. “You’re kind. And hot.” 

“And way too old for you.” 

“Not that old,” Paul protested, but he stopped the hand that had been creeping across the back seat of the taxi. “You’re not gonna tell my dad, are you?” 

“No, of course not. I presume you won’t tell anyone about me either?” 

“Our secret.” 

“Our secret,” Sid agreed. “Though don’t think I won’t make you do a bag skate if I catch you out there again.” 

“I’m old enough to have sex, Sid.” 

“Yeah, but not drink,” Sid grumbled, poking at him. He frowned, trying to bat Sid’s hand away. God, he was just a kid. A stupid, drunk little kid who didn’t know how to take care of himself yet. “Look, there’s time for that. I’ll give you my number. You’re too young for me but I can be a friend, right?” 

“Yeah, a friend,” Paul smiled. “That’d be nice.” 

Sid already had a team of idiots to look after, why not add one more child. 

The taxi dropped them off and Sid paid, hauled Paul out, and propped him in the doorway while he found his keys. Predictable, it didn’t take long for Geno’s door to open. 

He was flushed red, probably with vodka, and when he saw Paul his eyebrows went up, then climbed again. Sid didn’t even want to speculate about what was going through his head. 

“Hey, Malkin,” Paul slurred. “I’m drunk.” 

“Yes, I’m see,” Geno said. The alcohol made his voice heavy and rumbly in a way that went right to Sid’s dick and Sid should have been out there tonight fucking this out of his system and instead he was here. 

“Sid saved me in a club,” Paul said, and for a second Sid thought he might just blurt out which club, who Sid had saved him from. Instead, he slumped a little to the side. “I think I need to lie down.” 

“Come in, then. I’ll get some blankets for the couch.” 

“I’m help,” Geno said, sliding his arm around Paul’s shoulder. An order, not a request. Sid didn’t mind. He left them while he went and collected things. Blankets. A water bottle. A bucket, just in case. Paul groaned in approval of all of them and let them be arrayed around him, already half asleep. 

Geno watched Sid, eyebrow raised. 

“What, I was meant to leave him out there like this?” 

“You go to club?” 

Oh, that was what Geno was incredulous about. Yeah, that made sense. It wasn’t a very Sid thing to do, really. “I do, sometimes.”

“You go without me?” 

“I don’t take you everywhere!” 

“Should,” Geno said, grinning. His tongue poked out just a little while he smiled like that and Sid hated how much he liked it. “I’m best. Be good wingman.” 

Sid snorted. “Yeah, no. Won’t happen.” 

“We see,” Geno said, smiling again. “I’m go now. Bang on ceiling if you need anything.” 

“Sure,” Sid said, rolling his eyes. Then Geno was gone, Paul was snoring lightly on the couch, and Sid was left to take care of himself and get himself to bed.


	11. Wednesday 31st October

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HALLOWEEN CHAPTER, SO SPOOPY! 
> 
> I was going to write something else this week but then I remembered Halloween exists and I couldn't miss out on the chance for Sid and Geno to coo over babies in costumes. Enjoy!

Wednesday 31st October, 2018

“Hey. Hi. Sorry. You’re Sid, right?”

Sid jumped a little, the world shifting back into sharp focus around him as his attention was pulled away from the textbook. He turned, blinking, to look at the kid stood next to him, biting his lip and holding onto his own textbook, the same one Sid had been working from.

“Oh, hey, sorry,” Sid said, his mind scrambling for the kid’s name. He remembered him, in a vague way. He had these big, thick glasses which, well, Sid noticed when people wore glasses. When Geno wandered down to his place in the morning, thick frames on his nose, well, that was something. This guy wore them well. He was short, slender, but he had a generic kind of face and Sid wasn’t sure he’d ever actually spoken to him before.

“It’s Josh,” he said, teeth coming out to worry his lip. “We have class together?”

“Yeah, I recognise you,” Sid said, quickly. “I’m just bad with names. You sit at the back, right? With the girl with the eyelashes and...”

He stopped himself before he could incriminate himself any more with unflattering descriptions of his course mates but Josh was smiling so it couldn’t be that bad.

“That’s us, yeah. I just saw you working here and wondered if I could, like, work here too. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Oh, no, no problem,” Sid said, already reaching for his bag. Honestly, he didn’t need to move it, there was plenty of space but fussing with it gave him something to do while Josh settled himself, spreading out his own textbook and taking out a notepad.

He let his eyes drift back to the textbook. It wasn’t exactly riveting reading, though the lecturers were great. They really made the topics come to life in ways that words on the page couldn’t. But he knew he had to do this part too, had to have the greater depth. Had to understand things. He was lucky to get this chance and he knew it. He’d be insane to throw it away.

Josh turned the page in his textbook. His tongue was sticking out of the corner of his mouth. It was cute. It made him seem more approachable, less hipster.

Josh glanced over, caught Sid looking, and flushed a little. He looked back at his book then glanced up, meeting Sid’s eyes again and smiling, shyly. Sweetly. Something in Sid’s stomach dropped. He was being flirty.

There was a odd sensation in Sid’s gut, butterflies, and he forced his own eyes back on to the page. He was here to learn, not make eyes at some kid. And Josh was a kid. Eighteen, probably. Most of the people on his course were. It was weird, disorientating. When he’d agreed to this, he hadn’t even thought about the social aspect. He had his team for friends, after all. But now, sitting in class and looking at all these children...

Josh’s phone pinged and he picked it up. Sid forced his eyes back to the book. He grabbed a pen. Taking notes helped. Re-framing things into his own words. He’d googled study tips and that was one that seemed to actually work.

He copied down a few key phrases, jotted his own notes around them. Josh smiled, typed something into his phone. God, he’d come here for less distraction, not more. It seemed like whenever he tried to work at home, Geno appeared with a DVD or a bag of food he wanted Sid to cook for him or a pressing question about the power play that they had to work out right now.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He put his pen down, took it out. Geno, of course. Like he’d been summoned.

Geno> HALLOWEEEEEEEN )))))) TRICK OR TREAT?????

Sid rolled his eyes. That meant Geno had probably only just woken up, or only just looked at a calendar.

Sid> Yeah. I have some candy and a pumpkin. Want to carve it later?”

Geno> BEST )))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

Sid smiled and slipped his phone back into his pocket. He wasn’t sure what to expect from Halloween over here but he was going to be ready. Back home, he loved it. He never went over the top, never seemed to have time, but he always had candy and put out a lantern. He loved the kids, dressed up and grinning. He used to work with the real youth teams, the babies, and they’d come round on Halloween, all gap-toothed grins and tiny costumes.

He really loved Halloween.

He wasn’t really getting any work done, which sucked because the seminar was this afternoon.

“Hey,” Josh said. Sid glanced over to find eyes slightly lowered, a coy glance from under eyelashes. He shouldn’t find that as endearing as he did. “So, I was just wondering, a few of us from the course were going to go out tonight for Halloween. We were gonna start at Concert Square, see where the night takes us, maybe a few of the gay bars.” That was accompanied by a nervous sweep of the eyes that lingered a little too long on Sid’s bicep. “I was wondering if you wanted to come.”

“Oh,” Sid said, searching desperately for an excuse. “I mean, normally, I’d love to. I just...”

“It wouldn’t have to be a date,” Josh said, leaning in a little. He was still flirting, hand hovering a little off the table like he wanted to reach out and touch and Sid hadn’t even been thinking about a date, just about the music and the dancing and alcohol and Geno at home instead with a scary movie on Netflix and hot chocolate. “But if you wanted...”

“I’m really sorry,” Sid said, grimacing. “It’s not, like, personal but you’re kind of young.”

Josh raised an eyebrow, coy act dropping away. “What, like you’re ancient?”

“I’m older than you,” Sid shrugged. “And, no offense, I don’t really want to go out drinking and dancing.”

“Don’t try and tell me that’s because you’re old, too. My mum goes out drinking and she’s older than you.”

“Nah, it’s just a me thing, I’m afraid,” Sid said, blushing a little. “I just like things a little quieter.”

“I guess I get that,” Josh said, expression supremely sceptical. “But, like, if it wasn’t clubbing? If, like, I asked you to the cinema or, you know, to a restaurant?” A little of the shyness was back now, a little hesitancy. Enough that Sid let himself consider it for a second. Going to a movie with Josh. Going to a restaurant. Sneaking Josh into his place later, making sure Geno didn’t see. Making sure he didn’t out himself. Only that’d never work because Geno was a nosy fuck and Sid knew exactly how well sound carried in that building.

So maybe they’d go to Josh’s place. Maybe they’d squash onto a single dorm room bed to fuck. Maybe it’d work, for a little while. Sid knew relationships that worked for a little while, until the guy got sick of being a secret. Of coming second to hockey. Of Sid having this entire life where a boyfriend didn’t fit, where nobody even really knew he was gay.

Then it’d end badly, and he’d still have to see Josh in his seminars.

“Sorry,” Sid said, again, shrugging. Josh sighed.

“I mean, at least you’re gay, right? Because the way you were looking at me...”

Sid was very aware of the way he’d been looking. The way he couldn’t let himself look most of the time.

“I’m gay. Just not really interested right now.”

“Okay,” Josh sighed. “I will accept this. For now. So, have you actually worked out what we’re meant to take away from this chapter or am I just dumb?”

Sid let himself slump in his chair. “Honestly, I have no idea.”

***

Sid was starting to think that he’d made a mistake.

Geno was at the supermarket, having apparently decided that Sid’s decorations were insufficient. He had to really believe it because he’d apparently walked all the way there and Geno tended to avoid any exercise he wasn’t directly forced to do for hockey.

That was fine, what wasn’t fine were the pictures. It was late enough that the first few trick or treaters were out and Sid left class to a stream of pictures. A tiny Disney princess, a pair of pirates, a boy dressed like the clown from IT and, seriously, who even let their kid dress like that? That was asking for nightmares.

But, when he saw them, it really hit him. He was going to spend the evening in his house with Geno. Just him and Geno and a parade of adorable children. They’d coo over their costumes and chat and hand out candy, maybe Geno would take some more photos, post them to his instagram or something. Sid would potter around in the kitchen and fix them dinner. Geno would bully him into putting more cheese into things than he needed to. They’d curl up on either side of the tiny couch, as much as they could, and watch a movie. Maybe Sid’d end up with his feet in Geno’s lap. Maybe Geno would fall asleep with his head tilted back and Sid would have to wake him so he didn’t mess up his neck, send him upstairs to bed.

It was all so unbearably domestic. He should have gone out with Josh. Should have had a messy, meaningless fuck and let it go.

But he couldn’t. Not when Geno was texting him about his opinion on various skull-lights.

He did the only other thing he could think of, he called Callum.

“Hey,” Callum said, picking up almost immediately, and the sheer power of his enthusiasm was enough to knock some of the worry from Sid’s gut. “Sid! I wasn’t expecting you to call! This is awesome. Are you good?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Sid said. “I’m just heading home from class, me and Geno are going to set up and hand out candy to trick or treaters, we were just wondering if you wanted to join us.”

Sid liked Callum a lot, he really did, but there wasn’t much chance of things getting domestic or intimate with him around.

“Oh man, I’d love to,” Callum gushed, “Only, thing is, I’m going out drinking tonight. It’s, like, Halloween, you know! Lots of drunk happy girls in clubs and everything. Dylan wanted to go out and see what English Halloween’s all about and I thought it’s be fun.”

Sid took a second to parse than and found himself frowning. “You’re drinking with Dylan?”

“Yeah?”

“Didn’t you go out with him a few nights ago?”

“What, are you my dad now?” Sid could just imagine that incredulous look on Callum’s face as he said that and couldn’t help snorting.

“No. I’m your captain, though.”

“We don’t have a game tomorrow.”

“But we’ve got practice. And some social media stuff, remember. And we’ve got Panthers and the Storm this weekend, it’s going to be tough one.”

“Yes dad,” Callum droned. “I’ll be a good boy. Seriously, Sid, it’s not that big of a deal. It’s not like we go out every night and it’s good. We ran into someone when we went dancing after the Christmas party who actually knew the team and she was super excited to meet us and get photos, you know. Not like last year where people wanted to know what we were doing wrong on the power play when they ran into us in the pub. I just want...”

Sid sighed. He got it, he did. They were winning. They were on top of the world and Callum had never had this before. Nobody could blame him.

Sid was just going to have to accept a night alone with Geno.

“Fine. Don’t overdo it though and phone me if you need anything.”

“Okay, Dad,” Callum said, though this time it sounded more light-hearted. Teasing.

“Yeah yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow at practice, okay.”

“Okay. See you then. Have a great time with Geno.”

“I will,” Sid said, resigned.

***

Geno was wearing his glasses. Because of course he was.

“Think more kids come?” he said, flicking back the curtain. Sid shrugged.

“I mean, it’s getting kind of late. Kids in the US and Canada would be settling down and heading back home by now but we’ve not had many.”

“So disappoint,” Geno sighed, slumping like he’d just rung one off the post. “I’m think, lots of kids, cute costumes, best. Only a few come.”

“I mean, I guess that’s how it is in England. Last year there were so many kids out, it was great. I went round to a guy on the team’s house, he had kids and we took them round while his wife waited in with the candy then when the kids crashed, we went back and got to hand out some candy too.” It had been a good year. They’d been recognised a few times but not that many, mostly they’d just messed around. He missed them.

“Best,” Geno sighed, finally giving up the window and slumping his way across the room to the armchair. “Maybe we do wrong. Should find teammate with kids here.”

“Maybe,” Sid agreed. Since apparently Geno wasn’t going to join him he turned, kicking his legs out on the couch. “You thinking of doing the washing up since I cooked?”

“So mean. I’m guest.”

“Yeah, not gonna work. You eat here more than you eat at your place.” Geno sighed, but apparently that was a good enough argument as he hauled himself back out of the chair and started gathering plates. Sid made himself keep his eyes on the TV, some reality show, and not on Geno. He made himself not notice the way the jumper he was wearing stretched over Geno’s shoulders, the impossible length of his legs, the way the glasses softened his face.

It was possible that his crush was getting out of hand.

Then, a knock at the door.

Geno dropped the plates with a clatter and almost lunged across the space. Sid rolled his eyes and stood more slowly, still stretching when Geno pulled the door open.

“Trick or treat!”

“Ah, monsters,” Geno cried, pretending to fall back. “No, Sid, come help. Most horrible monsters.”

There was giggling and Sid came over to see a group of kids on the doorstep. He was never good with ages but they were young, not teenagers anyway. The last group had been teenagers in cheap masks. These kids had gone all out. There was a tiny werewolf, a miniature mummy, a vampire yawning in his mother’s arms, and they were all clearly delighted by Geno’s overreaction.

“Wow, those costumes are great, guys,” he said, snagging the bowl of candy. “Really scary.”

“Say thank you,” the mom prompted and the kids did, grinning and watching Geno as he pulled himself back up off the floor.

“Best costumes,” he said, smiling. “Is okay I’m take picture for the internet?”

“Oh, sure,” the mom said, adjusting the vampire on her hip. “Here, come on Benny, you get in the photo.” She dumped the vampire between his presumed siblings and he complained for a second until Geno went over to crouch next to them, handing his phone off to Sid. Sid smiled, took a few pictures, then grabbed the candy bucket. While Geno was looking the pictures over and chatting with the mom he got down and made sure the kids buckets were full. It was probably a good idea to get most of the leftover candy out of the house soon or Geno would eat it and that wasn’t going to help with their weekend games.

And then they were shuffling away, the vampire scooped back up, and Geno shut the door with a sigh.

“Better?”

“Yes, better.” Geno reached out and grabbed the candy bowl out of Sid’s hands then wandered over to the couch. Sid hit the switch on the Halloween lights Geno had picked up. He was about done. He closed the curtains and headed over to where Geno was sorting through the remaining Haribo packets and lollipops.

“Not much here. Those lucky kids.”

“Well, they did have great costumes.” For a second Sid contemplated the chair, but it was kind of uncomfortable and he’d been on the couch before. He said down. It wasn’t a giant couch and maybe he was a little too close to Geno for his own mental health but, well...

“Is okay,” Geno said, selecting a bag of cola bottles and dropping the bowl on the floor beside him. “I’m finish what’s left. Want to put Netflix? Eddy say something about new scary show.”

“Sure.” Sid made a grab for the remote. “Remember to do the washing up first, though.”

“No,” Geno groaned, throwing his head back like the dramatic fuck he was. “Too much, Sid. I’m do in morning.”

“You do know you don’t live here, right?”

“Yes, but I’m come back for breakfast. Come on Sid, scary Netflix.”

Like he could say no to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There'll be hockey in this hockey fic next time I update, I think...


	12. Sunday November 4th 2018

Sunday November 4th 2018

The locker room was buzzing. Someone had taken a pen and written the current standings on the whiteboard in the back of the room, barely legible through the half wiped out mess of plays diagrammed by generations of visiting coaches. They were fifth in the league. Not by a long way, not certain yet, but there.

Callum stopped to touch it when he came into the room, like he couldn’t believe it was actually real. It was the highest they’d been on the table in a long time.

Sid kept telling them it was early in the season, that it didn’t mean anything, but it was hard to argue with them when they were talking like they actually believed in something for the first time since he met them. Talking like they actually had hope. Really putting in efforts in practice. Coming together as lines to work harder.

Most of them, anyway.

But they weren’t playing league hockey, not that night.

Coach stepped into the room and a hush fell. Nervous fingers ran over sticks, feet shuffled, but none of them dared to speak. They all turned to look at him.

“Okay guys,” he said, pulling himself up to his full height. “It’s packed out there. We’re in enemy territory. The Storm need this win, they expect this win. They’re not so hot this season but the season they had last year, they’re expecting to at least go through to the quarter finals.

“But they’re not going through. Not this year. We need a win in regulation to put them to bed, that’s all. We can do that. We have done that. We’ve beaten this team before. There’s no reason we can’t do it tonight. Yeah!”

There was a cheer, a few guys banging their sticks on anything they could find, a few guys glancing around nervously, like even daring to think about it might jynx it.

Coach left and the chatter started back up again. Geno leant over and bumped his shoulder against Sid’s, not a big stretch in the tiny changing room. “You ready? We crush them.”

“I’m always ready for hockey, yeah. We’re gonna do this.”

“Gonna do it,” Geno agreed, reaching over and gripping Sid’s wrist. “Win, then everyone on team most happy. Need this, Sid.”

They did. They were doing well but it all felt so tenuous, ephemeral. There were still shifts when people would panic when they found the puck on their stick like they’d never run a drill in their lives. There were times people would start passing to nowhere, start turning the puck over like they didn’t even want it. Sid was very aware of all the ways this team could go very wrong.

But they’d been working so hard.

“We need it,” Sid agreed. “And we’re gonna get it. You and me.”

“You and me.” Geno agreed. “Come on, nearly time. Let’s go win.”

***

The Storm Shelter was an intimidating kind of place to play. Somehow Sid always forgot that between games. It was kind of like their home in a lot of ways, high seats looking down on the ice, boxing you in. But at their place people were cheering for them, here everyone was hoping for them to lose. Expecting, even, that they would lose. Expecting it to be an easy game.

Storm scored their first just after the one minute mark. Their second a few minutes later. The score stayed there until the last minutes of the first when Geno managed to get the puck past Ginn, bringing them within one goal. The tying goal came just over half way through the second, Callum burying it off a pass from Sid. The poor kid looked up for a second like he expected the crowd to cheer him but, when that didn’t happen, was happy enough to crash into Sid instead, shouting his joy in Sid’s face.

The third was choppy. Storm had apparently brought their physical game. There were a lot of hard checks, quite a few of them sent Sid’s way. He was aching in a way he knew he’d carry with him for a while after but that was fine. They were getting a lot of offensive time, making chances. One of them would go in.

He didn’t see the hit coming.

One minute he was moving down the ice, eyes on the puck on Geno’s stick, a powerplay ticking down, the next he was flat out, face hitting the ice, bouncing, then scraping along for a second. His arm was bent under him, his leg trailing out behind, and it hurt.

He gasped, tried to push himself up, but for a second he couldn’t. For a second, the world didn’t seem to want to resolve itself and he had the horrible feeling that this was the beginning of a concussion, that he was going to be looking at months on the bench. It’d happened before, he’d lost a year to it once. He’d been lucky his entire career hadn’t folded there.

The surge of adrenaline was enough to get him on his feet, which was enough to clear the lingering cobwebs from his head.

And brought him face to face with a fight.

Geno had his hand in a guy’s jersey, his face twisted in rage. He was pulling the guy closer, really going at him. The crowd were going wild, standing in their seats, making the entire thing feel even more like an arena than usual. The Storm player was fighting back, landing hit after hit on Geno and Sid wanted to skate right in there, shove the two of them apart or back Geno up or...

Someone looped an arm around his shoulder. He grabbed on to them but they weren’t fighting, just stopping him giving in to his more stupid impulses and wading in.

“Hi,” the Storm player said. “Don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Dallas.”

“Sid,” Sid said, eyes still on Geno, who’d managed to knock the other guy’s lid off. The refs were circling, looking for a chance to break them up.

“Yeah, I’ve heard a few things about you. You’re another long term import, right?”

Sid actually stopped to look over at the guy. He was huge with an easy smile. “Yeah, I’m here on a three year uni deal.” The refs finally got in, separating Geno and the Storm guy. Geno clearly didn’t want to be separated and god, Sid must be messed up because Geno was really mad and it was all kinds of hot.

“Nice. I was on a uni deal, graduated last year but I have a job here now. Next time you’re over for a match, you should let me take you round to Timmie’s.”

“There’s a Timmie’s here?”

“Just down the street. I mean, it’s not quite the same as home somehow but, look, I get that our teams are rivals and all but if you’re going to be here for a few years, it’s worth putting down roots in the wider league. If you want, we can talk.”

Sid actually let himself consider that as Geno was dragged off the ice, still swearing loudly in Russian. Or probably swearing. He always went right back to Russian when he had a lot of emotions to get out.

“Sure. Don’t think we’re not still going to kick your asses though.”

Dallas snorted. “Yeah, you can try. Come on then, Crosby. Back at it.”

Sid nodded as he pulled away, looking for the ref. He had a job to do as Captain, after all, though he wasn’t sure he’d be able to argue that Geno hadn’t been fighting.

It would be kind of nice to know more people in the league, though. Put down some roots. Maybe it’d help with the overwhelming crush on Geno, it he didn’t spend so much time feeling like Geno was the only person in the whole country who gave a shit about him.

***

The Liver buried the game winning goal with a minute and a half on the clock. Sid was on the bench when it happened, but he jumped right out of his seat anyway. After that, it was just a matter of running the clock down. The Storm pulled Ginn, tried to get back in it, but then it was all over and they had the points.

They were going through to the quarter finals of the cup.

“Oh god,” Callum screamed into his ear, arm around his neck. “Oh god, we actually did it. I didn’t think we could do it but we did. Oh god!”

Sid grinned. “Nah, I knew we could. Come on, let’s get out on the ice.”

The crowd were already leaving in disgust, but the Elite league loved a bit of ceremony and the travelling fans were still there to cheer as they did their lap of the ice. He even spotted Paul up in the stands, waving from beside his dad. In the obligatory handshake line Sid watched the vets stopping to say a few words now and then, clearly they had friendships, connections to the wider league. He grinned when Dallas stopped to pat his shoulder, let him know the next game wouldn’t be so easy.

“I’m counting on it,” he said, patting Dallas’s shoulder in return.

***

“You know, I think I might pass,” Sid said, sinking further down into his seat. “Just go home, you know.”

“No, Sid.” Geno had been livid for about the first quarter of the bus ride, hating that the ten minute penalty he’d taken had kept him off the ice, even though they’d won. He’d then spent a good half hour with his earbuds in, swapping seats with Sid so he could huddle against the window and feel sorry for himself and then, apparently, that was that and he was ready for team bonding. “Fireworks.”

That was a compelling argument. “I’m kind of tired, though.”

“Everyone tired,” Geno said with a shrug. “Big game. But fireworks.”

“We don’t even have anything to do with Bonfire Night. It’s not like anyone’s going to mind if I just go and sleep instead. It’s not a big deal.”

“Big deal for me,” Geno insisted. “We’re win, is big deal. Should be with team. Also, fireworks.”

Sid fucking hated it when he was right.

“Sure. Whatever. I mean, I guess.”

“Am right,” Geno said, sticking his tongue out in a way Sid shouldn’t find endearing. “Am always right.”

“Not always.”

“Always.”

Sid snorted, but getting into that argument any further was only going to end with wrestling and they’d been told off for wrestling on the coach once already. Outside, the lights of Liverpool were flashing by. They’d arranged the trip a while ago so the coach was set to drop them all at the park instead of at the rink. Honestly, Sid was kind of still aching from the hit he’d taken. He wouldn’t have minded just going home to sleep.

But Fireworks.

“Will be best,” Geno said, settling back into his seat with a sigh. “Am always love fireworks. Even when little.”

“Yeah,” Sid said, daring to spread his legs a little, to press his thigh up against Geno’s. Geno didn’t exactly talk a lot about Russia. He made sweeping statements, sure. Russia was the best. Russian hockey was the best hockey. But when it came down to the specifics of everyday life he wasn’t so forward.

But then the back of the bus burst into excited shouts and applause. Sid looked back and sighed. Callum and Dylan had been working their way through Callum’s man of the match beers. “We can pretend we don’t know them at the fireworks, right?”

“Yes,” Geno agreed, sliding down in his seat. “Kids worst.”

Sid snorted in agreement.

***

“Sid, so cold!”

“Well, yeah. Of course it’s going to be cold. Didn’t you bring a sweater or something?”

Geno gave Sid a long, disgusted look that said, no, he hadn’t thought to bring a sweater or something. Or a hat. Or gloves. He had a thin jacket and a t-shirt. It was not thin jacket weather.

When they’d reached the park, the group had broken up almost immediately so, so much for team bonding. Most of them had headed right for the food and Sid had let himself be pulled with that group. Once they all had various forms of meat in bread they’d started to argue about where the best place was going to be to stand to watch the fireworks, which was apparently a big controversial topic. Everything had degraded from there, the group separating and, somehow, leaving him and Geno alone.

Not that Sid was actually complaining.

“Look, it won’t be long now until the fireworks. We can go and stand closer to the buildings if you want, that might be warmer.”

“This is good spot,” Geno pouted. “Here is fine.”

“Well, it’s not my fault you’re cold.”

“So mean,” Geno sighed. “Meanest. Could give me gloves or scarf or hat.”

“Why should I give you my things? You have things of your own at home, it’s not my fault you didn’t bring them.”

“So mean,” Geno said, wrapping his arms around himself. “I’m die, maybe.”

“Oh god, you’re such a baby. You’re not going to die. But I’m still not giving you my scarf.”

“Fine, I’m get warm other way.”

By the time Sid processed what that might mean, it was too late to stop him. Geno was crowding up behind him, arms sliding around Sid, pulling him back so he was pressed in against Geno’s chest, Geno’s arms around him, Geno’s face pressing up against the side of his face. And yeah, that was one way to get warm.

“Better,” Geno declared, shoving his hands into Sid’s coat pockets. “Now, stand still and then fireworks.”

Sid definitely had no plans to move. As aware as he was that he needed to do something about his planet sized crush on Geno, he wasn’t going to say no to this.

“Fine. But don’t wriggle around. I’m trying to concentrate.”

Geno snorted in his ear and settled in, slouching a little more which only seemed to make Sid feel closer to him, more folded up into his embrace.

“Hey, Sid.”

Sid looked up at the sound of his name. It took him a second to find a face he recognised in the crowd of bobble-hatted strangers. When he realised who it was, he straightened up a little.

“Hey, Josh.”

“Josh?” Geno asked, breath warm against Sid’s cheek. “Who?”

“He’s on my course. Josh, this is Geno we play hockey together.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Josh said, raising an eyebrow. Sid rolled his eyes.

“You here for the fireworks?”

“Well, I’m definitely not here for the food.” Sid shrugged. His hog roast had been pretty good. “I’m with a few other people from the course. You could come over and say hello. They’d love to see you and meet your hockey friend here.”

The idea of letting Geno loose on a group of students was vaguely terrifying.

“No, thanks. It’s good to see you but I think we’ve got a pretty good view so we’re going to stay here.”

“Yeah, no worries,” Josh said, smiling. “And, like, no hard feelings. I get why you turned me down now, I think I’d have turned me down too for this guy.” He winked and turned, slipping away back into the crowd and leaving Sid with a block of ice in his gut.

There was a chance that Geno wouldn’t work that one out. He was a smart guy but English wasn’t his first language. A lot of the time, things went over his head.

“... he think we’re on date?”

And sometimes things landed exactly.

“Yeah, I mean I guess he did.”

Geno snorted, like the idea of them being on a date was so preposterous he couldn’t even start to take it seriously. It didn’t do much to melt the ice of Sid’s stomach.

“He ask you out before?”

“Yeah. I said no.”

“Yes, of course,” Geno said. Because of course he did. Because Sid was straight, as far as Geno knew. There’d be nothing in Josh’s offer to tempt him. It was the easiest out he’d ever been given. He could just laugh. He didn’t even had to say anything. He could let it quietly go.

“He was too young for me,” he found himself saying. “But, if he wasn’t, I might have said yes. Sometimes I do. Because I like men.”

Quiet settled over them. Sid bit his lip, waited for the withdrawal. He’d seen it often enough. Guys who were friendly who, once they found out who Sid liked in a partner, would draw back. Would stop touching, like they were worried they’d catch the gay, or that somehow touching him a few times would force Sid to fall in love with them.

Geno tightened his arms. He nodded against Sid’s cheek. “Okay. Thank you for tell.”

“I’m sorry,” Sid said. “I mean, I guess this might make you uncomfortable. Sorry.”

“No.” Geno squeezed him again, gently. “It brave for you to tell. Is not something many people tell, is not okay in Russia, but I’m glad you trust.”

Sid smiled, finally let himself relax. Maybe it wasn’t what his most romantic brain had imagined – Geno sweeping him into his arms and carrying him away from all this, declaring his undying love, but it was still something. Geno didn’t hate him and that was something.

Above them, the sky burst into light and sound. Geno had been right, it was a good spot. Sid let himself relax back into Geno’s arms as the fireworks went off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I did the standings. 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Also, since I've sent the Liver through to the cup quarter finals and not the Storm, they're going to be facing off against the Panthers. And the Panthers seem to have forgotten how to hockey so who even knows? 
> 
> Also, we were in Manchester a few weeks ago for a game and, since the Storm Shelter is kind of how I imagined the Liver rink to look, I took a few photos to help y'all who are used to arena games in the NHL visualise.  
> The building -  
>   
> View from the ice -  
>   
> View from the stands during the game -  
> 


	13. Monday the 19th November 2018

Monday the 19th November 2018

“It’s really great of you to invite me, thanks again.” Sid glanced in the rear-view mirror to see Paul sat in the back of the car, jiggling his leg, eyes darting around.

“We’re say, don’t mention.” Geno was folded into the passenger seat. There was plenty of space, Sid didn’t even complain when he always pushed the chair back as far as it went, but somehow he always managed to make it look vaguely uncomfortable. “Is good to have friends.”

“Yeah,” Paul said. He didn’t sound all that enthusiastic, Sid was kind of starting to wish he hadn’t come up with the plan. Too late to take it back now, though. Really, it had been too late when he’d mentioned it to Geno. Geno was a god-damn force of nature when it came to parties, making sure everyone was at them and everyone was having a good time. “It’s not going to be, like, awkward or whatever is it? Because it feels like it might be kind of awkward.”

“Is not just old man party. Rookies there. Lots of young people.”

“And people are bringing their families and friends, it’s not just a team thing.”

It was, in fact, the first whole-team and family kind of event they’d had since the start of the season. Not that they hadn’t spent plenty of time living in each other’s pockets, but they tended to meet in smaller groups. He and Geno and whichever of the imports and rookies ended up around their place on any given week. The older veterans who tended to stick to their own.

Sid was kind of looking forward to it. It was why he’d thought of inviting Paul.

“So, Callum’s going to be there.”

“Yes, definite.” Callum had made a big deal of it, going on about how much they all needed to get together. He’d laughed at Dylan when he’d suggested they go to a club instead.

Sid risked another glance in the mirror. Paul was smiling a little now, glancing out of the window. He made a mental note to be absolutely sure that he got introduced to Callum. He could imagine them being friends. Callum was pretty accepting. Maybe, if they got to be friends, Callum could get some of the angsty closeted teenage messages that Paul had been sending him.

Not that he minded the text messages, they just broke his heart every time. ‘Sid, I’m sorry to bother you but my dad called the guy at the car wash a faggot and I don’t know what to do’, ‘Sid, I’m sorry to bother you but am I going to have to stay in the closet forever if I want to play hockey?’ ‘Sid, I’m sorry to bother you but...”

Eddy had a large house, one that clearly had more to do with his day job as a builder and his wife’s law practice that it did with his career in British ice hockey. The drive was packed with cars already but Sid managed to find a spot right at the end, beside Nick’s car. He got out, straightened his jacket, watched as Geno unfolded himself from the car.

Geno, who routinely came around just to open all Sid’s cupboards and see if there was anything interesting in them, showed no interest in looking through Nick’s car windows. In spotting the pillows hidden in there, the ones Sid had spotted a few times now. The sleeping bag. The toothbrush in the pocket on the back of the driver’s seat.

Ah well.

“You’re sure this is okay,” Paul asked, shoving his hands into his own pockets.

“We’re sure,” Sid said. He reached out to squeeze the kid’s shoulder, guided him around the car to where Geno was still shaking out his arms.

“Too late for go back now anyway,” Geno grinned. “Is party.”

“I guess,” Paul said. He didn’t take his hands out of his pockets but he did let Sid lead him to the door and into the house.

Eddy’s eldest daughter was there to take their coats, obviously bored with the entire endeavour. She accepted them sulkily and then disappeared with all the grace of her thirteen years, footsteps echoing away from the noise of the party.

Eddy obviously heard the noise as he stuck his head through to greet them.

“Oh hey, Sid and Geno! And this is Paul, right? You’re David’s kid?”

“Yeah,” Paul said, stiffening a little at the mention of his dad’s name. “I hope it’s okay for me to be here. Sid said... but I know it’s kind of weird that I’m a fan.”

“It’s fine,” Eddy said, waving his hand. “Your dad has his way, you’ll be on a line soon anyway.” That obviously did nothing to loosen Paul up. “Come on through. We’ve got drinks and food. I think some of the guys were looking to put some music on. Apparently everything I like’s classic now.”

“Seems fair,” Sid said, following him thought to a living room. Most of the guys were milling around, a crowd of younger guys forming up by a laptop in the corner. He recognised quite a few of the significant others by now, too. “I think most of the music I like was classic when I started listening to it.”

“Sid have worst taste,” Geno agreed. “Worst at TV too.”

“You don’t always have to come over if you hate my tastes so much.”

“I’m do to help, Sid. Got to make you better.”

Eddy snorted at that. Sid just rolled his eyes. Like Geno didn’t sit there on Sid’s couch, wrapped in Sid’s blankets, and cry his way through reality TV. Not that Sid minded.

“Make yourself at home,” Eddy said, slapping Geno on the shoulder. “I’m just gonna go see what they’re going to my music. Drinks in the kitchen.”

“No problem. Geno, you want me to get you a drink? Maybe you can find Callum?”

“Yes, good plan. Beer!”

“Sure,” Sid said. He spared a smile for Paul, who was looking more and more freaked out by the second. “You want a coke or?”

“Sure,” he said, stepping in a little closer. “Yeah, that’d be good.”

“Awesome. You follow Geno, I’ll find you soon.”

It took some speed to get away before Paul protested or insisted on following him or whatever else he’d been thinking of doing to put off meeting Callum, but Sid managed it.

The kitchen was as nice as the rest of the house, modern and spacious. There was a breakfast bar down the middle of the room set out with all kinds of foods and the counter space held bottles of beer, wines, and a lot of soft drinks. Looking at it all made Sid feel less guilty for turning up empty handed. Eddy had insisted they didn’t need to bring anything but still...

Eddy’s wife was serving up hot pizza, a couple of the other wives hanging out with her. Sid knew one of them vaguely but hadn’t seen the other before. They exchanged hellos and awkward little hand waves and Sid shuffled his way round to the drinks.

Nick was mixing something up. He had a shot glass in one hand, a bottle of vodka in the other, and a glass on the table in front of him, some ingredients already in it. Sid forced a smile.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were good at mixing drinks.”

Nick snorted which, well, it was kind of what that comment deserved. Sid edged around to grab Geno’s beer, cokes for him and Paul. He might have risked one beer and still driven them home but it felt wrong when there were kids about, even if he’d hardly be the only adult doing it.

As if on queue, the door opened again and a couple of kids came running in. Sid recognised Eddy’s middle girl but not the boy she was dragging by his wrist, so clearly he wasn’t spending as much time with his team and their families as he should. That was pretty fucking disheartening.

“Uncle Nicky,” Eddy’s daughter said, bypassing everyone else entirely and heading straight over to grab on to his leg. “Daddy said you were in here. It’s been forever.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Nick said, shifting a little awkwardly. That was interesting, Sid had assumed he had somewhat regular social time with the other British players, the ones he didn’t openly resent like he did Sid.

“Whatever,” she said, pulling back. “Can you pass me a coke.”

“Sure, sweetie.” He glanced over and realised, just as Sid did, that Sid was in his way. Sid knew he should back down, head to the other side of the kitchen, but the ladies were down there, watching all of this unfold with little smiles, like it was funny, adorable even. He didn’t want to go down there.

Instead, he held out his hand, the one with the two drinks he’d taken for himself and Paul. Nick snatched one, carefully not making eye contact as he did, like he’d taken it from a vending machine and not a person, and held it out to the kid. She took it, cracking it open with glee and taking a swig. Sid watched her, wondered how many of those she’d had today and how many she was meant to, though her mum was right there. Not that any post- party sugar-related meltdowns would be his problem.

He reached back to grab another can, tried to do the decent thing and ignore them, but the kid was pretty loud.

“Uncle Nick, why isn’t Gemma here?”

It was pretty obvious in the way that Nick tensed up, pulling back, that he didn’t want to answer that question. Gemma. Sid didn’t know the name, but he’d take bets on it being Nick’s daughter. He definitely had one who’d be of an age that she might play with this kid.

“She’s busy, couldn’t make it.” He picked up his drink and took a swig. “Hey, is your brother around somewhere?”

“Yeah, somewhere,” she said, dismissively. “Playing baby games or whatever.”

“I guess you’re too big now for baby games, right?”

“Duh,” she said, swinging her ponytail. The boy, who’d just been hanging on her hand up until now, started to tug at her and she turned easily enough, Uncle Nick forgotten as she skipped back through to the living room, can of soda clutched in her hand.

Sid finished getting a can for himself and edged past Nick. Nick kept his head down, eyes on his drink, and Sid tried not to think about what his being here alone meant.

In the living room, it was easy enough to locate Geno. People seemed to be moving in and out of the room, heading deeper into the house, and Geno was lurking by the door, watching something. Sid headed over, elbowed him and put the beer into his hand.

“Oh, thanks,” Geno said, cracking the can.

“No problem. There’s a load of food in there too, if you’re hungry.”

Geno turned his full attention on Sid then. “Am always hungry. You not bring?”

“Nick was in there.” Geno crumpled his nose in distaste which was, yeah. “I’ll go back and get some in a bit.”

“Yes,” Geno agreed, his eyes already tracking back to where they’d been before. “Look, by laptop.”

Sid looked by the laptop.

Paul was looking a little flush. He kept reaching up to run his fingers through his hair, worrying at his lip, glancing around like he thought the world was playing some kind of joke on him, but then quickly turning back to the conversation he was having. And he was grinning, a real uninhibited kind of smile that Sid so rarely saw on the kid.

Callum, for his part, had his hands shoved into his pockets. He kept swaying forward, moving closer to Paul, just slightly, then pulling back again. He was smiling too, though that wasn’t so unusual on him. What was unusual was the kind of single-minded focus he was giving Paul, his eyes not leaving Paul’s face. Normally, at a party, Callum kept moving, jumping in and out of conversations. Right now, Callum was staring at Paul like Paul was a puck about to drop.

“Are they flirting?” He regretted the words right away, the implicit outing, but when he glanced over Geno was nodding, satisfied grin like he was vindicated by Sid seeing it too.

“Think so. Not so subtle.”

Paul reached out, dared to touch Callum’s arm for a second then pulled his hand back, laughed. Callum actually took a hand out of his pocket to touch his arm where Pauls fingers had been.

Shit.

“Callum remembered him. Used to be together in hockey class, sometimes. Don’t think had same friends but...”

“But Callum obviously likes something about him now.” Paul laughed again and Callum bit his lip. “You know, if they already knew each other, Paul could have stopped us in the car when we were talking about introducing them.”

Geno snorted, turning his attention back to Sid. “Maybe he scared. Maybe worry Callum not remember him.”

“Maybe,” Sid nodded. He wondered if Paul had liked Callum as far back as whenever they played together. He thought he vaguely remembered Paul’s family sponsored Callum, wondered if that was anything Paul had a say in.

Then Geno was elbowing him, nodding over at the kitchen door.

“Look, Nick come out.”

He had, plate of food in one hand and beer in the other. He went right up to another of the Brits, sat down.

“Can get food now.”

Sid snorted a laugh. Should have known.

“Don’t you want to stand here and spy on Callum some more. I wouldn’t want you to lose your good spying spot.”

“Food, Sid,” Geno said, looping an arm around Sid’s shoulder. “Be nosy later.”

Yeah, that sounded pretty good.

***

“Hey, beautiful. Is it that time already?”

Sid smiled as blandly as he could and sat back a little. Russell leant back, grinning up at his beautiful girlfriend. She smiled down on him, hand drifting to the slight swell of her pregnant belly. Sid made himself look away, they didn’t need him intruding on their moment.

Of course, it was getting late. A lot of the guys with kids had already left. Eddy’s wife had popped out a while ago to put their kids to bed and not reappeared, which he maybe couldn’t blame her for since Dylan had been in charge of the music and he wasn’t the most naturally gifted DJ. Since then, Cutting had taken over and apparently his goalie magic extended to music. Sid couldn’t say he’d really recognised anything played but the music had seemed to blend into the background, match the mood, and now it was pretty mellow.

Of course, with the thinning crowd, it was easy enough for him to find Geno. He didn’t mean to do it, but once he did he was hit with a desire to go over there, to touch Geno in the easy way Russell’s girlfriend had touched him. To have Geno smile up at him, follow him out.

As much as he’d worried that coming out to Geno would stop Geno touching him, he’d been kind of looking forward to it. It was always easier to get over a crush if the guy you couldn’t help being attracted to would stop touching you, using your space like it was his, treating you like you were someone important to him.

Coming out hadn’t had any particular impact on how Geno behaved.

Geno looked up then, caught Sid’s eye. Sid shrugged. Glanced up at the clock. Geno copied the gesture then shrugged. He looked around, sighed, nodded, then started to lever himself out of his chair. Sid turned back to make his apologies but Russel was wrapped up in his own little world and it seemed politer just to step away.

Geno met him half way across the room, an empty beer bottle dangling from his fingers. He looked loose, easy. He stepped right in and swung an arm around Sid’s shoulder.

“Time for go?” he asked, voice heavy.

“Yeah. People seem to be leaving...”

“Yes. We’re find kids.”

He couldn’t help but imagine, for a second, finding their kids. A little boy, maybe, with Geno’s eyes. A girl with his long limbs.

He didn’t mean actual kids, of course.

Most of the younger guys were out on the heated back patio, vaping. Paul was there, still deeply embroiled with Callum who seemed just as into him, still. Sid’d checked up on them a few times through the night, found them together.

It felt almost mean to break them up but he was going to have to do it some time.

“Hey guys,” he said, stepping up behind them. “We’re thinking it’s about time to head out. If that’s okay.”

“Oh, sure,” Paul said. He didn’t really look pleased about it though. Neither did Callum. He reached out like he was going to tough Paul then stopped himself, pulled back. “I guess.”

“Callum, have you got a ride home? Want to come with us? We don’t mind dropping you at your place.” They both brightened right up at that.

“Sure, that’d be great. Thanks, Sid.”

“Hey.” Dylan was leaning over. He was also noticeably more drunk than anyone around them. “You going?”

“Yeah.” Callum shrugged. “I mean, everyone seems to be. And Sid and Geno offered me a lift.”

Some part of Sid that his mother had raised right wanted to offer Dylan a lift too, but after living in American with hockey players for most of his adult life, he’d learnt that sometimes you just needed to stifle that impulse.

“So, you’re not coming drinking?”

Callum seemed frozen by that for a second. “I... we’re going drinking?”

“Sure, man. Karly’s up for it, right?” Karlsson, another of their young imports, grunted. Apparently that was a yes because Dylan turned back to Callum. “So, you’re coming?”

“I don’t know. I mean, maybe. I just... maybe I should go home, you know. We were going to go to the gym tomorrow morning you know and I just...” He glanced over at Paul, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Whatever. I mean, do what you want. You’re the one who’s gonna be missing out.”

There was something in the way Dylan said it, a meanness, that made it a threat. Callum obviously heard it, turning back to look at them and god, Sid didn’t like this kid. He tried to, tried not to pick sides, got up there and argued with the refs when he got called for stupid penalties, didn’t try to stop him if he wanted to be drunk half the time, as long as he was sober at practice and for games.

“Come on, Callum. We need to get going.”

“Yeah, go on, Callum. Go hang out with the old guys.”

Callum’s eyes narrowed. Apparently that’d been a direct hit. “Fine, I’ll go out drinking.”

Sid tried to ignore the way Paul’s face fell.

“Nice. I’ll call a cab.” Dylan pulled back before Callum could change his mind, grabbing for his phone. Paul stood up.

“Hey,” Callum said, standing too. He moved out, tried to touch Paul’s arm, but Paul was moving already, heading over to where Geno was loitering just in the door to the house. Callum let his hand fall, bit his lip, turned to Sid like he thought Sid was going to explain what he’d done wrong.

Sid sighed.

“Not too late you know, you can come with us.”

“I said I’d go.”

“If that’s your choice.”

Callum didn’t say anything, but he also didn’t move. Sid waited, nothing. Eventually, he had to turn. Back in the house, he said goodbye to Eddy, got their coats back. They piled into the car. Right up until they pulled out of the drive, part of him wait waiting for Callum to appear. To change his mind.

He didn’t.

***

“Thanks guys,” Paul said, unfastening his seat belt. “I had a good time tonight.”

“No problem,” Sid said. “We’ll have to invite you to something else some time.”

“Yeah, that’d be cool. Bye now.” And with a small of the car door, Paul was gone. They sat there for a minute, watching him walk up the driveway of his frankly ridiculous house and let himself in. It was only when he was finally out of sight that Sid let himself sag.

“You worried?”

“What about?” Sid asked, putting the car into gear. Geno snorted, which was probably fair. They both knew who he was walking about. “Callum’s actually an adult, he can make his own choices.”

“Still a kid.”

“Yeah,” Sid agreed. He pulled off, pointing them home. “But tell me you didn’t make a ton of stupid decisions at his age.”

“Me, yes,” Geno shrugged. “Not Sid. Think you born middle age.”

“Hey. I’ll have you know I made my share of stupid mistakes. You’ve got to learn yourself. We’ve got to let him learn.”

“Maybe. Still suck.”

Sid didn’t comment on that. It did. He’d thought, maybe, for Paul. They’d seemed to like each other so much.

“Sid.”

“Yeah?”

“Think I’m need tell you something.”

“Sure,” Sid said. The roads were pretty clear, it wouldn’t be long before they were home. “What’s up.”

“Think maybe you’re be mad, think I should have told you sooner.”

“You’re not in trouble, are you?” It was half a joke but Geno didn’t laugh. Sid risked looking over and he just looked worried, which wasn’t good. His brain started pulling up the stupidest ideas. Geno was ill. Geno had to go back to Russia. Geno was secretly married. Geno wasn’t actually okay with him being gay.

“Not here but... I’m never tell anyone before. Have to promise keep secret.”

“Of course.”

“I know,” Geno nodded. He shifted in his chair, collecting himself maybe. “Should tell you before. I’m like women, Sid,” Sid nodded. That wasn’t news to him, to any of them. There was a seconds silence then, “I’m like men, too.”

It was a good job the roads were clear as Sid was pretty sure his brain short circuited for a second there.

Geno liked men too. He’d never told anyone else but he was telling Sid now and...

“It big thing, in Russia. Is not okay. I’m never tell anyone. Is okay, I’m like women too. Have many girlfriends but now, maybe I’m tell people. Not everyone but friends. Best friends.”

Sid’s breath caught. Best friends. He’d thought. He’d hoped, for a fraction of the second there, that the next thing out of Geno’s mouth would be a confession of love. That he’d been so overcome to Sid and knowing that Sid was available that he’d decided, to hell with it, he was going to come out.

Best friends.

“I’m glad for you, G. Glad you felt like you could say this to me. It can’t have been easy, keeping it in all this time.”

“No,” Geno agreed. “Is hard. Worst. But is okay, now. Now, you’re know.”

“Now I know,” Sid agreed.

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a longer chapter this time to make up for missing last week.


	14. Thursday 29th November

Thursday 29th November

“What you’re read?”

Sid looked up from his book. Geno had dropped into the stall next to his and was looking like he might be genuinely interested. Sid held the book up, showed him the cover, and watched Geno’s nose crinkle in distaste.

“I don’t know why you even ask. It’s class reading. It’s always class reading.”

“More boring,” Geno sighed, leaning back.

“Sure. What did the physio say?”

Geno shrugged. “Give me some exercises. Ankle always going to be problem, it’s worst.”

“But you’re good to play tonight?”

“Yes, am good for play. Ready for big win.” He beamed at that, and Sid couldn’t help but grin back, trying to ignore the low pleased feeling in his stomach at that expression on Geno’s face. “You ready for skate?”

“I’ve been ready for ages. What, you want to get out on the ice early?”

“Always want to get on ice.”

Sid nodded because, yes. He’d thought about going out while Geno was seeing the physio, but the problem with mid-week games was that he was going to have to go to class later so there was reading and studying to fit in around pre-game rituals, morning skate, coaching sessions.

Still, he could give up a few minutes of reading to get out on the ice a little early.

“Suit up,” he said. Geno nodded and set about doing just that as Sid turned his attention back to the book, making sure his chapter was finished at least.

The ice was fresh and felt good under his blades. Geno made a few lazy laps of the ice while Sid rounded up a few pucks, took them out to centre ice, then took turns shooting them down into the goal. Geno picked one up and came back up the ice with it, passing it to Sid who passed it gently back to him. They batted it between them for a little while, settling into an easy rhythm. The room was quiet, calm. It was easy.

After a while, Geno circled closer. Sid moved out to steal the puck from his stick but Geno gave it up, apparently not here to fight today.

“Used do this a lot in Russia,” he said, skating close enough to touch.

“Morning skate?”

“No,” Geno wrinkled his nose. “Morning worst. But play on ice. Did a lot.”

“Yeah,” Sid agreed. “Especially in the winter when the lakes froze over. People used to make ponds in fields and let them freeze...”

“Best,” Geno agreed. “Out on lake in morning with just puck and stick, best.”

“For sure.” He could imagine that pretty vividly, he’d done it often enough. More than once he’d crawled out of bed at some obscene time to be the first on a freshly formed sheet of ice. “This one time, in Juniors, we were heading for a roadie and we spotted this lake from the coach. Beautiful ice, completely unskated. We got the driver to stop and went out there and shot pucks. Messed around. It was awesome.”

“Yes,” Geno sighed. “Maybe we’re do some day.”

“I don’t think the lakes here freeze...”

“Not here, no. Maybe you’re come play Russia next year?”

Sid snorted. “Don’t think they’d want me over there. Besides, I’m here for three years until I’m done with school.”

“Forget,” Geno said. He reached out and snagged the puck back from Sid’s stick. “Come on, old man. Race me.”

With that he was tearing away down the ice. Sid snorted and followed him, glad to finally properly stretch his legs.

***

“Alright guys, get some rest. Back here at five for pre-game meal and then the Storm.”

There were grunts of acknowledgement around the room and then they all fractured off into their own conversations.

Sid stood and stretched, looked around. The room seemed to be pretty positive, people were laughing and joking. It was so far from the room he’d walked into at the start of the season. 

Callum was sat in his stall next to Sid, head down. Sid move over and gently nudged at Callum’s foot with him. Callum shrugged a little, then looked up. He looked exhausted, had been tired on the ice that morning. Slow. It definitely wasn’t like him. 

“Hey, you get some sleep today, okay? Go crush a nap or something.” 

“I’m fine,” Callum grumbled. He climbed laboriously to his feet. “Stop worrying.” 

“I’m your friend, I’m meant to worry about you. You look beat. Get some sleep.” 

“I’m fine.” He swayed a little. “I mean, yeah, maybe a nap might be good.” 

“Yes,” Geno said, swooping in, his arms settling around Sid’s shoulders like it belonged there. “Nap. Is best. I’m always nap on game day.” 

Callum snorted, but he looked a little more amused by it now Geno was agreeing. “I mean, I guess. It’s not like I have anything better to do today.” 

“Lucky,” Sid grinned. “I’ve got class and then I’m meeting some guys to study. And, you know, since you’re doing nothing, think you can drop Geno at his place?” 

“Sneaky,” Geno said, even as Callum laughed. “I’m like. Come on, Callum. I’m give you best tips for nap in car.” 

“Sure,” Callum said, smiling at last and shaking his head in exasperation. “Yeah, let’s do that. But you’ve gotta hurry up though, I’m not hanging around here waiting for you all day.” 

“Yes, yes. I’m get back now.” Geno wandered away, no doubt planning to chat to at least a few other people on his way there and back. Callum turned, went to dig in his own bag and Sid knew he should get his things together, should start thinking about class. 

Something was wrong. 

It was pretty clear in Callum’s body language. The slowness of it, the way he turned in on himself. He hadn’t even seemed to enjoy being on the ice that morning, he always loved being on the ice. Always got so pumped for game day and this wasn’t just any game, this was the Storm. He loved games against the Storm. 

But Callum’s back was to him and he wasn’t an idiot. Wasn’t going to force himself where he wasn’t wanted. 

He made himself grab his bag. Geno’d talk to Callum. He’d help him. 

It was going to be alright. 

***

“Sid.” 

Coach was stood in the doorway of the rink. If that wasn’t enough to tip Sid off, the look on his face would be. Something was definitely not right. 

He handed his bag over to Geno who took it without question and jogged over to the door. “Yeah, coach.” 

“Come in. We’ve got a bit of a situation.” 

Sid nodded, then followed him. The arena was loud, kids’ hockey lessons in progress. He looked around and found Paul, but Paul wasn’t paying attention, just watching out for the puck. Then they were back into the private area of the rink. Back past the locker room to the office, normally full of area staff. 

Callum and Dylan were sat there looking like kids in the principal’s office. Dylan was slumped back in his chair, eyes unfocused, hands hanging loosely. Callum was sat on the edge of his seat, head bowed down, shoulders tight. He was worrying his lip like he might burst into tears any second. 

They both reeked of alcohol. The scent was so strong that Sid could smell it from the doorway. 

“Shit,” Sid said, and some of his disappointment must have bled into his voice because Callum flinched. Dylan didn’t even move. 

“So, we’re down two men against the Storm tonight and god knows they’ve not been playing their best this season but they’re going to be looking for revenge after we knocked them out of the cup.” Callum nodded, clearly aware that this was for their benefit, not Sid’s. Dylan still didn’t respond. 

“The two of you have let me down. You’ve let Sid down. You’ve let yourselves down, the club, your entire fucking team. Either of you got anything to say for yourselves?” 

Silence. Good. Sid was pretty sure that any actual attempt to justify their behaviour right now would end with Coach screaming at them. 

“Honestly, Sid,” Coach said, turning to him. “I don’t even know what to do with these little shits. The amount of disrespect, showing up here to do their jobs like this.” Callum’s eyes were glistening with tears. Sid wanted to reach over, to tell him it would be okay, to shake him, to comfort him. 

“It’s pretty awful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone actually show up drunk to a game.” Hungover, yes. But not this. 

“No, me neither. Alright, you pieces of shit. Give me one good reason you should still be a fucking Liverpool Liver player tomorrow morning.” 

Callum looked up at that, eyes going wide. He swayed a little on his seat, Sid almost wanted to protest the unfairness of making him defend himself when he was like this but he’d brought it on himself. 

He should have gone home to nap. 

“Please,” Callum said, voice thick. “I’m sorry, coach. I’m an idiot, but I won’t do it again. I promise. Please.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” This was Dylan, finally stirred from his apathy. “God, you’re so fucking pathetic.” 

“I didn’t…” 

“Like it even matters. This club is a piece of shit. This league is a piece of shit. If I’d know this was where college hockey was going to land me I’d have paid more attention in class.” 

Coach sighed, wrinkled his nose, turned his back on both of them, Dylan’s drunken defiance and Callum’s welling tears. He looked old. Tired himself. “Sid, a word outside.” 

Sid went without complaint. 

“Fuck,” Coach said once they were clear, the door shut. “This is just…” 

“It’s ridiculous,” Sid finished. “They’re meant to be fucking professionals. I knew something was going on with Callum but…” 

“It’s not on you. What do I do now though, Sid. Not Dylan, he’s on the next plane home, should have never hired that piece of shit. But Callum.” 

Sid frowned. “I mean, he needs to be disciplined but you aren’t actually thinking of throwing him off the team?” 

“I am,” Coach said, voice all steel. “He’s been a liability all along. You know that, Sid. He’s brilliant when he’s on a high but the kid can’t focus. He does stupid things on the ice because he thinks it’ll impress people. He takes stupid risks. He’s got no moderation, no focus.” 

“He’s a kid.”

“He’s nearly twenty. I don’t know, Sid. I want him to stay. I know the fans love him but if we can’t trust him…” 

Shit, Sid couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t. Not after all the work they’d put him. 

“Let me talk to him. Please. He’s a good kid, I know he is.” 

Coach sighed, but his shoulders dropped. Defeat. 

“I’m going to take Dylan out back and put him in a taxi. You’d better go in there and make Callum realise what a fucking mess he’s made for himself because there’s not going to be another chance. 

Sid nodded. Another chance. That meant there was one chance. 

He went back into the room. Callum had folded himself up, head on his knees. Dylan hadn’t moved. He glared at them as they came in. 

“Dylan, get up. You’re off the team. Callum, you’ve got the time it takes for me to put this fucker into a taxi to come up with a reason you’re not joining him.” 

Sid had been kind of expecting Dyland to make a fuss, shout, but he just stood up. He wobbled his way over to the door, stood there by coach for a second then slowly, deliberately, spat at coach’s feet. 

Sid tensed up. He watched Coach’s hands clench, his shoulders tighten. He stepped forward, ready to stop a fight. 

Then Dylan was out the door. Coach followed in silence and Sid was alone with Callum. 

He gave himself a second to gather himself. Stood, tilted his head back, took a deep breath. He could do this. 

Callum was watching him when he turned back around. Drunk and unfocused and a complete mess. 

“You want to tell me what happened today? I thought you were going home to nap?” 

Callum sat up, wrinkled his nose, and Sid was sure he was going to fight, going to argue, but then all at once he subsided, slumping back into his seat. “I didn’t mean to do this.” 

“Then what happened.” 

“Dylan wanted to go to lunch, so I said yes. And there were some girls he wanted to impress so we got them drinks and he didn’t want them to think we were pussies so we got alcohol and I said we shouldn’t but… then he kept buying rounds and he got mean when I didn’t drink and I just…” 

“Callum, you’re twenty. You should be old enough to say no.” 

“I know,” Callum said, and there was a definite sob in there. He leant forward, obviously meaning to hide his eyes, as though his distress wasn’t obvious in his shaking shoulders. 

“I know, I just… I’m sorry.” 

“Callum…” 

“He was my friend. I’d not, like, I was always in a crowd of guys but I was never, like, the guy everyone wanted to be friends with, you know. I was always the weird one, the loud one. I know I’m a lot Sid, I know it, but I just… Dylan liked me and he wanted to be friends.” 

“If he actually gave a shit about you he wouldn’t have made you drink when you didn’t want to.” 

Callum nodded, eyes still down. “I just wanted a friend.” 

God, what a mess. 

“When coach come in, you’ve gotta tell him you’re sorry. You’ve gotta make him believe it. Swear of alcohol and actually do it. I think he’ll give you a chance but, Callum, he’s serious. You need to take this seriously.” 

“I know,” Callum said, and fuck but Sid wanted to go and hug him. He was still so fucking young in so many ways. “I’m sorry, Sid. I let you down. I’m sorry.” 

“Then do better. From tomorrow, you do better. Understand.” 

Callum nodded. Then, the door was opening and coach was there. They nodded at each other and Coach gestured to the door. Sid made himself go. Made himself walk away, head to the locker room. 

What a mess. 

***

“He’s out for the weekend, but I’m giving him a chance.” 

Sid sighed in relief. “Thanks, Coach.” 

“I just hope he doesn’t make me regret it. Now get out there, we’ve got some ass to kick.” 

***

When the Storm buried the fourth unanswered shot, Sid knew the game was over. 

***

Geno was in a foul mood on the ride home. Sid didn’t even try to talk to him. The team had been briefed on the entire Callum and Dylan situation in the locker room which had gone down as well as you might expect after they’d been shut out. 6-0 at full time. 

When he killed the engine Geno had the door open in a minute. He didn’t even stop to grab his gear back, unlocking his own door and slamming his way up. He should be mad, two of those storm goals had come while he sat in the penalty box for stupid reasons and he’d almost got into a fight that would have cost him a game if he’d carried on. 

Sid let his head thump back on the headrest. Let himself breath. 

There was nothing he could do about Geno, not now. Nothing he could do about Dyland or Callum. 

He got up, made himself get out of the car, lock it. Their gear would be find in there overnight. He let himself into his flat. 

He could hear Geno’s footsteps upstairs, thundering about. Normally, Geno came to his after a game. Even after a bad loss. They’d be made together for a while then calm down, settle back into their usual patterns. 

Geno dropped something hard on the floor and Sid closed his eyes. 

He gave him and let himself imagine. Let himself envision going back out, then into Geno’s apartment. Running up the stairs, grabbing Geno by the shoulders. Shaking him. Kissing him. Pushing him down and fucking him. Letting himself be fucked, letting Geno pour all that anger and frustration into him until they were both bruised and sore with it and then Geno would be gentle. Geno would kiss him softly, apologize like it hadn’t been exactly what they both needed. Move them to the bed and hold Sid in his arms and let Sid come apart a little, let Sid be hurt and unsure. 

There was another crash from upstairs. The distant sound of Geno swearing. Sid opened his eyes. 

He went to the kitchen and turned on the kettle. He wasn’t going to sleep any time soon anyway so he might as well make a coffee. Might as well start in on the reading for his next class. 

That would have to be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early post today, I'm off to watch the Nottingham Panthers play the Glasgow Clan. Taking bets on how many times I call them Braehead by mistake before the day's over. 
> 
> I've had a think and I think that the league standing things I were doing here in the comments are, at this point, a lot of effort for not a lot of return. I literally feel the same way about checking the actual table. I might put them back in towards the end of the season but for now I'll just let the text of the story tell you how the team's doing.


	15. Tuesday 4th December 2018

Tuesday 4th December 2018

The changing room was silent.

Sid had never seen it like this. It wasn’t even the loss, not really. This was only the first leg of the cup, they were going to play again in a week and the aggregate score was going to say who went through to the semi-finals. It was the score line. 6-1 to the Panthers. The lone goal had come of Sid’s stick but even that didn’t feel good.

They’d left themselves a lot of work to do and not a lot of energy to do it with.

Beside him, Callum was particularly quiet. He sat with his head bowed, his towel around his neck and his eyes closed. It wasn’t a good look on anyone but it was particularly heartbreaking on Callum.

Six goals again. They’d have to win by six next week to go through. And it wasn’t that Sid didn’t think they could do it, he definitely did, but there was what they could do and what they would do.

Geno stood up. He was already changed, though he normally took half an hour, wandering around the room in half his clothes and chatting to people. Today he clearly wasn’t in the chatting mood, which wasn’t surprising. Three of those Panthers goals had happened while he was on the ice and he hadn’t had a single shot on goal.

“Going.” He announced.

“You’re going to have to wait a minute,” Sid said, grabbing his bag. He was still half in his gear.

“Gonna walk.”

Sid stopped. He looked up and yeah, Geno was pissed, but he hated walking and it wasn’t like they lived just down the street. He raised an eyebrow, something that would have been understood a week ago, but Geno just turned his back and let himself out of the room.

Well, fine. If he wanted to walk, let him walk.

A few of the other guys took their chance to escape now they weren’t the first, silently shuffling out. He heard them in the corridor, muttering to the equipment guy. Coach had been through already. He hadn’t even had to yell, though Sid thought it might have been better if he had.

Callum was still mostly in his hockey gear.

Nick shuffled past, giving Sid a glare as he did like Sid was responsible for the score line and that was probably fair. If he was going to accept praise for the wins then he needed to accept responsibility for the losses too.

And then the room was almost cleared out and it was just him and Callum. He sighed, standing up and stretching. It was weird to hear anything after that silence.

He’d almost have preferred yelling. Angry hockey players at least had some energy that you could channel into the next practice, the next game, keep them moving forward. He wasn’t sure what you could do with a room full of silent hockey players.

Though maybe he didn’t have to deal with the entire room full. Maybe dealing with just one would help.

“Hey,” he said, nudging as Callum with his foot. Callum looked up at him and he looked wrecked. He was pale, shrunken, not himself at all. Fuck. “You want a lift home?”

A minute and then a small nod yes. That was better than nothing.

It seemed to be enough to finally get Callum moving. He stripped out of his gear while Sid checked his phone. Taylor had sent him a text wishing him luck, far too late and kind of horrible given the circumstances but it had been well intentioned. He ran his thumb over it and thought about her. He thought about how much more he’d seen of her back home, how often they’d called each other. Time zones seemed to get in the way here and he missed her fiercely. She’d have known what to do. She’d have given him good advice on how to get the room going, how to talk to Callum, how to work out if Geno was just being pissy because he couldn’t find the net or if there was something more going on there, if maybe Sid had done something somehow and now they were broken.

He didn’t have Taylor right now, though. He put the phone back in his pocket as Callum shoved the last of his things into his bag. He was going to have to sort this out himself.

He let Callum stay glum as they trailed out to his car. He noticed that Nick’s was still there but made sure to give it space, he didn’t have time for that mess tonight.

He unlocked his car and let Callum get in. He did, dumping his things into the back then sliding down in the chair and hiding his face in his arms. Sid sighed. He wasn’t sure when he’d got old enough to start thinking of his teammates like kids who needed looking after, but he couldn’t really help it with Callum.

He waited until they were on the road before he tried talking.

“So, what do you think about coming early to the next practice? I was thinking we could do a little more work in the corners, I didn’t exactly do great there today.”

Callum snorted. “Don’t think there’s much point. Not unless you’ve got a fucking miracle shot.”

“Come on,” Sid said. “I’ll teach you a few more trick shots.”

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to do them any more in case I fuck up.”

“Callum...”

Sid half expected an explosion and for a second he thought he was going to get it. Callum drew himself up in his seat, then all at once he deflated, slumping over and banging his head against the window. Sid wished he’d just shouted.

“You know, this loss isn’t your fault.”

“Well, I didn’t stop it either.”

“No,” Sid agreed. It hadn’t been a great game for him. “You want to talk about that?”

“Not really. I just... I thought we were doing really well. For once, everything was going really well and now...”

“It’s one game.”

“It’s not.”

It wasn’t. They were working on a little bit of a losing streak. Their line changes were abysmal. Their shots couldn’t connect. Guys who were scoring no problem were getting the puck and acting like they’d never seen a goal in their lives. Geno was pissed.

They could really be doing better.

But, still, it was just hockey. Hockey was important, so fucking important, but it was also a game and sometimes, as much as you wanted to, you lost.

“Do you miss Dylan?”

Callum actually looked at him then. He seemed to think that over, biting his lip. Sid was already casting around for a new topic when he finally responded. “I don’t think so? Like, I thought I would and I feel like I should. He was my friend. But, well, he was kind of a dick and I’m not an idiot, okay. I know I was kind of a dick too when I was around him. I just...”

“You just?” Sid prompted.

“I just... he made me feel cool. Good.”

“You don’t feel that a lot?”

“I’ve always been kind of weird. Like, you get that ice hockey’s weird here, right? Normal kids play football. And even with the hockey kids I was weird. And I’m a fucking mess. I can never focus on anything and I pick things up and quit them and say I’ll meet people and I don’t and I’m really not good at a lot of things but for a while I felt a little bit like a rock star. Being his friend, I knew he wasn’t great but it felt like being someone important.”

“You are someone important, Callum. You’ve been playing great this year. I mean, you’ve got stuff to work on in your game but, let’s be serious, if we didn’t have stuff to work on in our game we wouldn’t be playing here, we’d be lifting the Stanley Cup.”

“I make stupid mistakes. Coach hates when I make stupid mistakes.”

“You show off, too. Sometimes getting a puck in the net is better than making a statement. But all of that, kid, that’s stuff you’ve gotten better about. Stuff you’ve been working on. Then you started hanging out with Dylan and drinking a lot...”

“And then I really started fucking up,” Callum agreed, nodding slowly. “Yeah. I know.”

“Being good, part of it’s feeling like a superstar. I didn’t get to walk into NHL ice very often but, every time I did, I felt amazing. But most of it, the everyday, it’s turning up and working hard. You were doing that at the start of the season, how do we get you back there?”

Callum bit his lip, looked out of the window. Sid let him, focused on driving instead. He’d not taken the route to Callum’s often, the kid preferred public transport and had a habit of crashing on Sid’s couch if he stopped over too late. Not that he’d done that recently, and he’d been too caught up in Geno to notice.

“I don’t know,” Callum said finally. He sounded tiny. “I don’t know how to get better.”

Sid had some ideas. “You said you have trouble concentrating. Have you ever talked to a doctor about that?”

Callum shuck his head. “I think there was someone in school but mum said she didn’t want me to be some drugged up zombie so...”

“You don’t have to take drugs,” Sid agreed. “But if you think that not being able to concentrate is stopping you living your best life, maybe it’s something to look into. Maybe not. But I’ve worked with guys before who find it hard to concentrate and I can help if you want. We can schedule practice more, work out together. I can try and help guide you. If you want.”

Another silence. Then, almost too quiet to hear. “You don’t have to do that. You don’t have to do that for me.”

“I know, but I want to.”

“Why?”

Sid snorted. “Because I like you, kid. And I think you can be good. I think we can be good. We just need to work hard and not lose faith.”

“Just that?” Callum said, but he was smiling now.

“Yeah, just that.”

“Well, I guess we can do that.”

Sid laughed. He was about ready to let the conversation lapse back into silence when Callum spoke again. “So, are you and G alright?”

“Me and G?”

“Yeah. I seems, I don’t know, pissed. And you’re not driving him places and he doesn’t keep coming over to you any more at practice and grabbing you or whatever.”

“It’s just hockey,” Sid said. “He’s not good at losing. He’ll get over it when we start to win again.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes,” Sid said. He had to be, because the alternative was that somehow coming out to Sid had made Geno so upset that he couldn’t even stand to be around him, had altered their relationship in some deep and fundamental way.

He wasn’t going to let that be the truth. This was just hockey. This was something he could fix.

It had to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I'm not dead. 
> 
> I am about a month behind at this point so I'm sorry for dissapearing all of December. I got my ass kicked by accademic work and then I'd intended to use the christmas holidays to catch up but mostly held a baby and felt bad because of dental work. I believe in realistic goals so my aim now is to be up to date by the end of January. Cross your fingers for me.


	16. Tuesday 11th December 2018

Tuesday 11th December 2018

Sid and Geno sat together on the coach.

Honestly, Sid would have rather sat alone. He got on and slumped down, taking his ear buds out of his pocket and jamming them into his ears. They’d won the game but it was hard to feel like it mattered when they’d lost the series. They were out of the challenge cup. It was over.

He didn’t get what he wanted. Geno slumped into his usual seat next to Sid. He didn’t elbow Sid like he would have before, didn’t try to pull him out of his bad mood. He didn’t lean into Sid’s space, didn’t harass him. He just slumped there, face like thunder, crossed his arms, and glared at the seat in front of him as though it had personally offended him.

Across the aisle, one of the guys got up and switched seats. Geno didn’t react. Sid sighed.

He’d let it go on too long, obviously.

Shit.

Nobody wanted to sit near them, the guys who normally did took one look at Geno’s face then stated scanning the bus for other seats. Most of them seemed to gather at the back and, by the time they pulled out and set off home, there was a little party back there. Just some quiet music and the murmur of conversation but something nicer than the oppressive weight of Geno’s anger.

Sid waited until they were leaving Nottingham to take the buds out of his ears. Geno didn’t react.

Some days he hated being captain.

“Hey,” he said, very gently jostling Geno’s elbow. “Good game.”

“Worst game,” Geno said. He sounded about as happy as he looked and Sid really wished he could leave him alone, but that policy wasn’t working.

“You know, lots of guys have scoring droughts. Even in the NHL, some guys go ages without scoring. You’re still contributing to the team. You’ve been awesome on the penalty kill in the last couple of games and you had some great checks today.”

Geno snorted but his shoulders seemed to loosen a little. “Should still be score.”

“I mean, nobody’s going to complain if you score, but that’s not all you are to this team. Goals’ll come again. You’ve just gotta relax.”

“Easy for say,” Geno grumbled, bringing his hand up to rub at his face.

“Yeah, I know. But getting angry with everyone because you’re not scoring isn’t going to help. I didn’t say anything when you started being weird but you’re not just doing it to me now, you’re doing it to everyone...”

Geno actually turned to face him then. He looked a little hangdog, which was a good look on him and tended to melt Sid into a fucking puddle, make him forgive anything Geno had never done wrong. “I’m not mean be weird to you.”

“I mean, you’ve been pretty much ignoring me. You don’t come over anymore and, like, I get that I’m a lot sometimes and you wouldn’t be the first person to, like, get to know me a bit better then decide you don’t want to be my friend after all or whatever but...”

“Sid, no.”

Sid’s nails were cutting into his palm. He hadn’t mean to say that, had been trying so hard not to think it, to tell himself that Geno was only upset because he wasn’t scoring and that it wasn’t anything to do with him.

Geno’s hand closed around his arm. It was probably the first time they’d touched since the car, since Geno had haltingly come out to him.

“Not that, Sid. Sorry I’m make you think. Think maybe I’m be little bit asshole.”

Sid laughed sharply. “I mean, maybe. I guess at first I thought you were mad that you weren’t scoring goals and maybe you are but you kind of disappeared on me and I thought we were friends. I thought...”

“Are friends, Sid,” Geno interrupted. Sid risked a glanced at him and he looked really fucking upset now which, well, Sid wasn’t the one who’d ignored someone for weeks. What the hell was he meant to think. “Best friends. I’m sorry.”

He nodded. It felt stiff. “Sure.”

“No, I’m mean. I’m not be fair to you. I’m go through some personal stuff.”

“You’re going through some personal stuff?” Sid repeated, slowly. “Like... is it your family? Are they okay?”

“Yes,” Geno said. He squeezed Sid’s arm reassuringly. “All okay. I’m not want talk about it, is personal, but guess I’m let it go too far. Just because I’m feel bad isn’t reason to make you feel bad, to be bad friend to you.”

Part of Sid wanted to protest, to tell Geno he should be whatever the hell kind of friend he needed to be. A bigger part of Sid was focused down on the feeling of Geno’s hand on his arm and how long it had been since they’d touched. He’d missed it so much and it’d been hurting. He was too far gone on Geno, too in love. It was only going to end up with him getting hurt.

He reached up to lay his hand over Geno’s.

“You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever it is.”

Geno nodded, then sat up a little, pulling back. “I’m do better. Not be such asshole.”

“I mean, it’d be nice.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding. “I’m try. And if I’m asshole again, tell me as soon as I’m do. Don’t wait and feel bad, just shout.”

Sid grinned. “Yeah, I can probably promise to do that.”

“Good. Now, talk to me about hockey. What you think we go wrong on power play?”

“Best to not even think about it,” Sid said, glancing down the bus. “But I’ve gone some ideas for drills we can run in practice that I’m thinking of running by coach...”

***

Despite the quiet conversation they’d kept up the entire way home, there was still a moment when they got off the coach and trailed to cars where Sid was sure Geno wasn’t going to follow him. He did, though. Trailing after Sid, folding himself into the car, swearing at various other drivers and complaining about Sid’s driving speed like he always had done before.

Sid could honestly almost forget the weeks of weirdness until he was out of the car, standing at his door, and Geno was suddenly hanging back, hands shoved in his pockets.

“G?”

“Am tired, Sid. Think I’m go bed.”

Sid’s stomach dropped. Geno always came over after a game, even if they’d just been on the coach for hours. He’d bang his way around, make himself some of Sid’s food, make Sid put on a movie, sit too close to him on the couch. Sid hadn’t realised his much he’d been looking forward to that.

“I mean, if you need to...”

“Yeah,” Geno said. Sid took a step back. He wasn’t disappointed, he wasn’t. He turned and unlocked his door as Geno came over and opened his own, there right next to his. It was weird that they’d never done this before. It was weird that they were doing this now.

He turned, meaning to say goodnight, and instead found himself pulled forward and suddenly Geno was hugging him. It was a full body hug, his arms clinched around Sid and pulled him right in so they were mashed together, chest to chest, Sid’s face shoved into Geno’s shoulder. It took him a second to work himself out. He freed his arms, wrapping them around Geno’s torso, and turned his head so he wasn’t breathing in shirt, then he slung right back, just as hard as Geno was holding him, and let himself enjoy it. Let himself really feel Geno pressing against his, the strength in his arms, he firmness of his chest.

Then Geno was pulling back, just a little, and for half a second Sid was sure Geno was going to kiss him.

He didn’t. He stepped back, broke the hug. He was flushing, frowning, refusing to meet Sid’s eye.

“G?”

“Need to sleep now. Goodnight, Sid?”

“Night.”

And then he was gone.


	17. Wednesday 19th December 2018

Wednesday 19th December 2018

The Christmas party was winding down. Most of the tables had emptied, the fans stopping by for one last handshake or selfie before they took themselves away. The bar staff had started to very pointedly clear the tables of the detritus of their Christmas dinner. The supporters club representatives were determinedly pulling down the banners they’d put up, the ones with all the players faces photoshopped with santa hats.

Sid was hiding in a corner, wishing it was all over already.

Geno was out on the dance floor with a few lingerers. Two women, both tall and blond and pretty fucking beautiful, as far as Sid could work out. They’d been following Geno around all night and he’d been encouraging them, smiling at them, laughing with them. And that was fine. It wasn’t like Sid could expect anything else. It was just...

One of the women leant in, pressing into Geno’s side and he brought his arm up, put his hand on her hip and Sid grabbed his phone, forced himself to check his notifications again. Geno could flirt. He could take one of those women home. Both of them, even. It was nothing to do with Sid.

Nothing at all.

“Crosby!”

Sid looked up from his phone. David Carey was striding towards him, larger than life as always. He was wearing a suit which was both too formal and too expensive for the occasion and holding two mobile phones like he wanted to prove that he wasn’t just busy enough to need one. Sid sighed. He’d managed to duck David for most of the evening, foisting him off on team members. He’d have felt worse about that but...

“Have you seen Paul?”

Paul.

“Not recently. I think he was on the dance floor a little while ago.”

“Yes, I saw,” David said, but he didn’t seem displeased, which was probably good. Paul had been with Callum, watching Callum just a little too intently, dancing just a little too close. Apparently not too much, though. Not enough that his dad had noticed, at least. “Hanging around with Callum. A good choice. Good to build chemistry now for when they’re on a line together.”

They were never going to be on a line together. Sid wasn’t going to fight that battle now, though.

“Maybe they nipped outside. I think a few of the guys did.”

“Walk with me, then,” David said, already setting off, Sid’s compliance an apparently foregone conclusion. Sid glanced back at the dance floor. Geno wasn’t touching the girls now but they were still there, circling. He followed David.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” David said. “About marketing and such. You must have some experience of that, having been in the NHL.”

“Only for a few games. I hardly did the media circuit like the big name guys.”

“True,” David said. “But you must have absorbed the atmosphere.”

Most of what Sid remembered about being in the NHL locker room involved knowing he was there on borrowed time while someone was out and that he’d be sent back down any moment. There’d also been the pressing fear that he was about to mess up and do something so ridiculous they’d never call him up again.

“I didn’t really have much to do with it. A little on the AHL, our team did some videos and things, but that was mostly the young guys. They fans were interested in them in case they made the show, not so much in me.”

“But the videos, did they work. Did they raise the team’s profile?”

Sid shrugged. He hadn’t really thought about it. The PR team and the younger guys, the guys who still dreamt of making it, would hang out and shoot silly videos. He’d smile indulgently from his stall and try to stay on the side of the camera that wasn’t filming.

“We’ve gotta do something to get you guys out there. You’ve got a decent product here, Crosby. Okay, we’ve been losing a little but attendance was on the up before then. We’ve got to capitalise on that. Really bring the community in.”

Sid nodded along, trailing after him, scanning the room. The sooner they found Paul and Callum the better.

Then he caught sight of them, coming out of the bathroom.

Paul looked pleased with himself, he was blushing a little. Callum’s hair was a mess, suspiciously like someone had been running their hand through it which he did when he was drunk but he hadn’t been drinking.

So, that was interesting.

“So, what kind of videos do you think we should be doing?” Sid asked, stepping forward, hoping to distract David. He didn’t think the guy was observant enough to notice what Paul had or hadn’t been doing in the bathroom with Callum. He wasn’t observant enough to notice that his kid couldn’t find the back of the net if he was handed a map, but it was best not to take chances.

“Something viral,” David said, then launched into a river of ideas, getting caught up enough that he even stopped, stood there between a bunch of tables, gesturing wildly and outlining an entire social media strategy which, well, it might have been terrible for all Sid knew but it certainly kept him absorbed.

Luckily, before he could really get his teeth into his follow up topic of how the players should be using twitter, Paul appeared. He was looking less flushed but still beaming.

“Hey,” Sid said, trying to keep his relief out of his voice. “Here’s Paul.”

“Oh, yes,” David said. He looked at his son for a second, frowning. Maybe he was annoyed to be interrupted. “Right. Your mum’s in the car already, we should be going.”

“Alright,” Paul said, nodding. “I’ll see you later, Sid.”

“Yeah,” Sid smiled. “See you later.”

David paused for a second, and Sid was almost convinced he was about to launch into another rant about something Sid didn’t care about, but then he sighed and turned and, just like that, Sid was free.

Free and alone.

David had led him most way to the door and he was kind of tempted to just go out only he was Geno’s lift. Geno might want to get a taxi, though. If he was bringing someone back...

He looked over and Nick was stood by the door, smirking.

“Yeah?”

“I see you got caught by David?” He looked pleased with himself, like he’d enjoyed seeing Sid struggle. Hell, he probably had.

“Yeah. He wants to do some videos or something. Maybe you can volunteer?”

Nick snorted and for a second they shared a look that was almost friendly. Then Sid’s phone rang and the moment was over.

He looked down. Taylor. He’d been expecting her to call but not this early. Shit. “I have to take this,” he said, not to anyone in particular, and headed to the door, accepting the call as he did.

“Hey, big brother,” Taylor said, and damn but it was good to hear her voice.

“Hey, pest. How’s home?”

“Boring as usual,” Taylor sighed, and Sid let his eyes close. He could almost imagine she was there in the room with him, not an entire ocean away settling into a new job in a new city without him. “Mom and Dad are really stressing me out about Christmas.”

“Tell me about it,” Sid said, relaxing back into the wall, and she did. He didn’t really listen, it was the same as every year. Mom wanted them all home, they couldn’t all get home, Dad made them feel bad for upsetting Mom. He’d been exempt this year with being in England. There’d been some brief talk about visiting him but it was so far and they’d left it a little late to look at flights.

But it was fine. Christmas wasn’t even that big of a deal. His presents were in the post and he was planning a movie marathon and dinner for one. It’d be fine.

He just missed them, that was all.

And then he was fighting the urge to cry on a street corner outside a bar in Liverpool, England. Shit.

“Sid?”

“I’m here,” he said, bringing the palm of his hand up to press into his eyes. Damnit, he shouldn’t have come here. He’d thought he was making the right choice but they were losing and things with Geno were wrong and his sister, his parents, they were all so far away.

“I can still get a plane, Sid. I can look now. I have some money.”

“Taylor, you’re not doing that.”

“You’re upset.”

“Yeah,” Sid admitted, there wasn’t much point in hiding it. “But, look, it’ll be fine. It’s just Christmas and soon Christmas’ll be over. I’ll phone everyone and we can talk and I’ve got a hockey game literally the day after so we’re flying over to Ireland so I won’t have time to be lonely. And I’ll see you in the summer. I’ll come and visit and you can show me your new city.”

“I’d like that,” she said, voice soft. “But Sid...”

“Sid?”

Sid looked up. Geno was there, watching him from the door of the bar. Taylor was still talking, promising she’d be there if he wanted, that she’d throw her savings away because he couldn’t cope with himself, and Geno was watching.

“Sorry,” he said, though he wasn’t sure who he was apologising to. “Taylor, Geno’s here. He needs a lift home. I’ll call you back. I mean, you do need a lift home, right?”

For a second his head was full of the girls from the bar: laughing and beautiful and perfectly appropriate for Geno. The perfect people for him to love, in a way Sid could never be.

“Yes,” Geno said. “Need lift home. Can wait, though.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll call you later, Taylor. Okay.”

“Okay. But I’m going to be looking at flights.”

“Don’t you dare spend any money. I’ll phone you later. Bye.”

“Bye, Sid. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

And then she was gone. Sid looked down at his phone for a second, then back up at Geno. Geno was still watching him. Still leaning there, long and gorgeous.

“What wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” Sid said, shoving his phone in his trouser pocket. “Do you need anything? Got your coat?”

“Didn’t bring,” Geno said, and it wasn’t like Sid could say anything because he hadn’t either. “Tell me what wrong.”

“Let’s go,” Sid said, turning and starting towards the car. Geno caught up to him quickly, bumping their shoulders together. Before Sid did whatever he did to destroy their relationship Geno would have put his arm around Sid’s shoulder, would have been leaning right into him.

“Sid, what wrong?”

Where to even start. “I guess I’m just missing my family. It is nearly Christmas.”

“Yes,” Geno said, nodding. “I’m miss family much too. Phone mama even more than usual, she complain about phone bills.”

Sid nodded. He’d listened to quite a few of Geno’s phone conversations with his mom over the last few months. He never understood what they were saying, of course, but it was clear from the tone that she enjoyed telling Geno off and he enjoyed being a little sorry about it and they really cared about each other.

“Do you regret coming to England?”

Geno actually thought about that, which Sid hadn’t really expected. After a second he shrugged. “I’m stay in Russia, not play hockey. Some things about here bad, I’m miss family. Some good. I’m get hockey, get to meet you.”

Sid couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, I liked meeting you too.”

Geno did sling his arm around Sid’s shoulders then, leaning in to do it, and for a second they were pressed together, warm, and Sid let himself relax.

Then Geno was pulling away again, stepping back.

“You have plans for Christmas? Spend with other North Americans?”

“Nah. I figured movies and cheat food. I was going to get some cheesecake.”

“Okay,” Geno nodded. “We’re do together.”

“But... don’t you already have plans?”

“No,” Geno said, waving his hand in a way that might have meant he did but they weren’t important or that the idea of him having plans was silly. “No plan. But have now. We’re watch movie, eat entire cheesecake.”

“I didn’t say an entire cheesecake.”

“No, I’m say,” Geno said, grinning. “We’re do morning skate, then nice dinner, I’m pick restaurant, then movies and cake.”

That sounded pretty damn amazing. Much better than his meal for one. “Only if you’ve not got plans.”

“No plans,” Geno promised. They were nearly at the car now. “Want to spend with you, Sid.”

“I want to spend Christmas with you, too.”

“Then is easy. Come on, I’m need sleep. Too much dance.”

“Sure,” Sid said, unlocking the car.

Sure.

***

Sid> Hey, don’t worry, I’ve got Christmas plans after all.  
Sid> I’ll phone you in thirty, just gonna crush a shower.  
Sid> Love you  
Taylor> Love you too, idiot.


	18. 26th December 2018

26th December 2018

Sid was never going to be a fan of early morning flights, but he did like waking up to the sight of Geno on his doorstep, suitcase in hand, excited to play some hockey.

“Going to new city,” Geno explained, climbing into the passenger seat of Sid’s car. “Get explore. Get play good hockey. Exciting.”

“Yeah,” Sid agreed, half his mind still under his warm duvet. It wasn’t that he hated mornings but he’d been awake later than usual the night before. He and Geno had cooked themselves a little Christmas dinner then thrown every cushion, pillow and blanket they collectively owned into Sid’s sofa and settled in to watch Christmas movies. He’d ended up lying there at 2am, pressed into Geno’s side, and it had been awesome. It had been just like things were before Geno got all weird.

“Like little holiday,” Geno said, apparently very happy with himself. It was, kind of. They had two nights in Belfast and two games against the Giants, who were currently sat up near the top of the league. The hockey wasn’t going to be easy but it’d be nice to get away and maybe the enforced sharing of space would ease through the last of the weird awkwardness that had been hanging in the air between them. Normally a game was a coach trip, they were back to sleep in their own beds in the evening. This was more like what he’d thought of as a road trip in the NHL. There’d be hotels and down time with the team, time to bond.

He couldn’t do much about their losing streak, he was already playing as hard as he could, but if he could get Geno to be normal with him again...

Maybe he could just convince Geno that being Sid’s best friend was lucky. They had been winning a lot more games when they were spending more time together. But, then, Geno wasn’t superstitious in the way Sid was.

“Are you sure you’ve got everything?” Sid asked. “I’m not driving you back here again if you forget your gloves again.”

“Gloves important,” Geno said, doing his best to look offended. “Lucky. But I’m get. Get everything. Don’t need to worry, Sid. Trip will be good.”

“Yeah,” Sid agreed. He put the car into gear. “Yeah, it will be.”

***

The flight was short and uneventful. Before Sid quite knew what he was doing he was in a hotel lobby in Belfast trying to get a hockey team’s worth of guys to stand out of the way and not make too much of a noise so the check in people didn’t just go ahead and not bother checking them in.

“Gather round, guys,” Coach shouted, finally waving them over. “I’ve got room keys and I’ve already done room assignments so I don’t want any of you to complain. Crosby, you’re with Malkin.”

Sid’s heart leapt. He hoped to hell it didn’t show on his face as he held out his hand and took the card coach was waving around. He moved back, away from the pack as the rest of the guys crowded around, taking their cards and shuffling away in pairs, grabbing bags as they went.

He looked for Geno in the crowd. He waited at the other side of the lobby, making no move to get his bag or to come over to Sid. The others guys started grabbing lifts or hauling their bags upstairs, showing off to each other. Sid waited.

Coach finished handing out the cards.

Geno went up to him. He looked annoyed, he was slumping and kept running his fingers through his hair like he did when he was stressed. It made it stick up in a fluffy cloud around his head. He said something to coach, gesturing vaguely in Sid’s direction. Coach shook his head. Geno said something else. He actually looked Sid’s way, caught Sid watching him, and blushed. Coach shook his head again. Geno’s shoulders slumped. He went to grab his bag.

He’d been trying to get out of sharing a room with Sid.

Or, at least, it sure as hell looked like he’d been trying to get out of sharing a room with Sid. Which was fine, he didn’t have to want to share. Sid had just thought...

He turned and grabbed his bags. He’d just been an idiot, that was all. He’d just wanted things and he kept letting himself get caught up in these little fantasies and maybe Geno had the right idea, pulling away. Maybe Sid should let him put some space between them.

Fuck.

Geno appeared at his shoulder, hang dog expression still in place.

“We’re on the second floor. Room fifteen. I’m gonna take the stairs, if you want to grab the lift.”

“Sid...”

“I’ll see you up there.”

He grabbed his case, glad his gear bag was still stowed on the coach they’d rented for the entire trip. He ran all the way up to the top floor, letting the burn in his legs distract him for Geno, asking for a different room, not wanting to be near Sid. Then back down to the second and along to his room. He knocked and Geno opened the door.

“You take long time,” Geno joked, tongue poking out between his teeth. “Forget which floor?”

“Have you already picked a bed?”

For a second Sid was sure Geno was going to say something else, instead he stepped back, let Sid into the room.

Technically, there were two single beds in the room. They each had their own bedding, but they were pushed so close together that they were functionally one double. There wasn’t going to be anything between them. He was going to roll over in the night and see Geno right there, as close as if they’d been sharing a bed, and he was going to know Geno would rather be somewhere else.

Hell, maybe he should go and talk to coach. Grovel a little, try and swing a room change. He could share with Callum. Hell, he’d even share with Nick.

Instead, he walked across the room and dumped his bag on the spare bed. The one nearest the window, the one he’d pick if he’d gotten here first.

“Sid...”

“I think a few of the guys are going to take a walk around town.” In thirty minutes but there was no reason Sid couldn’t go back down to the lobby now to wait for them.” I think I might go with them. Or I might walk over to the rink, you know. Take a look at the place. I know you can’t see much from the outside but...”

“You not nap? Always nap on game day.”

He did always nap on game days. He also had books in his bag for university and he’d been counting on this quiet time before the game to get a little reading done but right now the thought of getting into that bed turned his stomach.

“Maybe naps are bad luck. Besides, I’m pretty rested after yesterday.”

“Yes,” Geno said, apparently sensing a safe topic. “Enjoyed yesterday.”

“Yeah. So, I’m going to go out with the guys.”

“Sid...”

“I’ll see you at the rink.”

There was a longer pause, long enough for Sid to get to the door, then “Okay, Sid.”

Sid closed the door gently behind him and headed back to the stairwell. A few more trips up and down to clear his head and then he’d follow the guys to town and not think about any of this.

***

They lose the game.

***

The one good thing about losing the game on the road is there are fewer fans there to watch. Sid knew it was going to be a big ask for them to win this one, he knew the Giants were having a great season and, hell, it wasn’t like they played badly. They’d lost 3-4, they’d come from behind and it had looked like it was going to go to overtime for a while there, though it hadn’t in the end.

But they’d lost.

They might have ended up all trailing back to separate rooms if it weren’t for Callum. He’d been glum coming out of the room, glum getting on the bus, then he’d rallied. He’d spent the ride to the hotel convincing everyone that drinking and bonding was just what they needed. A few of the older guys begged off, but a lot agreed. It turned out boxing night wasn’t a big drinking night but the coach driver knew an off license and that was how Sid found himself sat on the floor of Callum’s room, a bottle of vodka on the floor in front of him, talking hockey with their earnest, drunken goalie.

“I just want to score a goal,” the guy was saying in that earnest, intense way drunks have. “Just one.”

“You can do it.” Sid gripped his arm to make sure he knew that Sid believed in him. “Goalies can score goals. You can do it.”

“Yeah,” he said, head tilting to the side. “Maybe tomorrow I’m gonna get a goal.”

“I’ll help,” Sid said. He was sure there was a play they could put together, his mind just couldn’t connect the dots of it in the moment. “I’ll get the assist.”

“Maybe you can watch the net while I go score.”

“Yeah, but then I might get hit.”

“You won’t. I’ll have the puck.” Sid nodded, you couldn’t really argue with that. Then there was some movement that drew his attention. It was Geno, laughing. Stupid Geno with his smile and his big hands and his stupid long legs. Stupid Geno with his everything.

Sid climbed to his feet. It made the room spin a little, but that was okay. He was allowed to let go sometimes. To be a little drunk sometimes. And he wasn’t that drunk. He’d been taking care.

It was just that his legs seemed to think he was that drunk.

He wobbled his way over to Geno. A few of the other guys had to get out of the way for him but that was okay. They were all in good moods for once. Even Nick was there, sat in a corner with some of the other veterans. Even the staff were there, which should have made it awkward but it didn’t. Coach wasn’t, of course. Coach would be too much like their dad being there, or their boss. Sid didn’t even want to be like that, so close to the team but also just too far away.

He just wanted to play hockey forever. That didn’t seem a lot to ask.

Then Geno was there and Geno always smelt really good, Sid had gone poking in his stuff once to find out what he used to smell like that but it had been Russian. He was so tall and Sid could just lean on him and he didn’t get pushed over or make stupid jokes about how big and heavy Sid was.

Instead he lifted his hand and for a second he rested it on Sid’s hips, and Sid had the vaguely memory of him doing this with girls in clubs, of him touching them this way, pulling them closer to him, kissing them, taking them home.

He wondered what Geno would do if he kissed him.

Then Geno was pulling back, angling them away from each other and, that was right, Geno was an idiot.

Fuck.

“I think I’m drunk.”

“Yes,” Geno agreed, and goddamnit but even his voice was sexy. “Most drunk. You need drink water.”

“I’m fine.”

“Drink water, Sid.” Geno stepped back as he said it and they weren’t even touching at all any more. “Have hockey tomorrow, not need hangover.”

Fuck, Sid had to play hockey tomorrow and he was drunk. This had been a bad plan. He should have stopped Callum, but everyone seemed so happy. It couldn’t be all bad. He turned to Geno to tell him that but Geno had already put him back to Sid, was having a conversation with another group of people.

Well...

Sid stumbled to the door. Nobody tried to stop him. He let himself out into the corridor, then went along, trailing his hand along the wall until he found their room. The key card was in his pocket and he used it to let himself in then went straight to the bathroom, filling the glass in there a couple of time and draining it. He kind of hated that Geno was right but he’d hate it more in the morning when he was too hungover to skate.

They had morning skate, too. They shouldn’t have been drinking. He should go back in there and tell them to stop, to go to bed.

But his own bed was right there and so tempting.

Callum and his roommate had pulled the beds apart. They’d pushed them to opposite sides of the room so they were as far apart as they could be. Callum wasn’t going to wake up with an extraordinarily handsome Russian face right next to his. He wasn’t going to lie there wanting so much for it to mean something other than it did, for the permission to reach across and touch.

Sid knew he should do the same, should push the beds apart. Instead he stripped down to his underwear and climbed under the covers then rolled over and closed his eyes.

He’d do it tomorrow.

It was still dark when he woke to pounding on the door. He groaned, rolled out of bed and stumbled over.

Geno was looking annoyed on the doorstep. He stopped when he saw Sid and his face did something else instead. Sid didn’t let himself analyse that, just took a step back into the room then diverted to the bathroom.

When he came back out Geno was already in his bed, facing away, the covers pulled up to his ears. So much for waking up to a face across the pillow.

He climbed back into his own bed, faced away and pulled the covers around himself but he was awake now. Fuck. He thought about fishing around and finding his phone but they were probably in his jeans and he didn’t even know where they were. He didn’t even know what time it was.

Behind him, Geno shifted around.

Sid had been so hopeful. He’d been sure that this trip would be a turning point, that they were going to fix their relationship. Instead it was just feeling more and more broken.

He turned slowly. Geno’s back was still to him and Sid could see that he was wearing a t-shirt under the blankets, which was stupid because someone had turned the heating right up, but then he probably didn’t want Sid to look at him. Didn’t want to be naked and exposed so close to Sid.

“Why don’t you like me any more.”

Geno stilled. He wasn’t even breathing and if Sid could have pulled the words back into himself he would have, but it was all he’d been thinking about for weeks.

Then Geno was rolling over, actually turning to face Sid, bringing them so close. “You drunk, Sid. Sleep. We’re talk tomorrow.”

“You’ll only have another excuse then. I get that I fucked up but I don’t get why and maybe it’ll be easier if at least I know why.”

“Sid...”

Sid waited for the rest of the sentence, but the silence stretched between them. He’d ruined it again, obviously. Made it weird. He was so good at making it weird.

“Is it because I like you?” He shouldn’t have said it, he knew he shouldn’t, but his stupid, drunken, treacherous heart was apparently in control. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable but...”

“No, Sid,” and Geno was reaching across the gap, was laying one of those big hands on the side of Sid’s face, stroking his hair gently. “No. Is not... is just not good idea, okay?”

“I know it’s not a great idea for me to like you but it’s not like I can help it. I just...”

“Not mean that,” Geno said, moving his hand away to wave it. Sid reached out and grabbed the hand in his and Geno stilled, let Sid hold his hand there on the bed between them. “Not you. I just... is bad idea for us to be together.”

Sid blinked. “What?”

“I’m think, at first, would be good. I’m like you, Sid. Very like you. But then I’m think about hockey. I’m think about fucking up. Dylan fuck up and goes away, I’m not want to go away. Think about how bad locker room is if we fight. And would be hard, so hard. Couldn’t tell anyone. Would have to always be big secret and sneaking around and...”

Sid’s head was spinning and it didn’t even feel like it was just the vodka any more. Geno wanted him. Geno had thought seriously about the logistics of them being together.

Sid leant over and kissed him.

It was clumsy, more a bumping of faces than a kiss at first but then Sid tilted just saw and they found each other, found their rhythm, Geno’s hand squeezing around his where they were still pressed together between them, Geno’s lips warm and Geno, just there, so close.

Sid pulled back, knelt up on his elbows so he could look down at Geno. Geno reached up with his free hand, traced it over Sid’s lips.

“You like me,” Sid said, smiling, loving the way Geno’s fingertips felt against his lips as he spoke.

“Yes, I’m really like.”

“Good, I really like you too.”

“Sid...”

“All the rest of it’s just stuff. Excuses. I mean, yeah, this is going to be hard, but if it’s worth it, if we really care about each other, we should give it a try, right?”

There was a pause then, “Right.”

“Good,” Sid said, sliding back down into the bed. “But not now, we’ve got to play a game tomorrow. We can talk in the morning.”

Geno snorted at that, but then he leant across the space and brushed a gentle kiss to Sid’s hairline and Sid didn’t really mind being laughed at if he also got soft kisses. “Yes, sleep Sid. We sort out tomorrow.”

“Good. Because I really like you.”

“I’m like you most too. Sleep now.”

“Okay,” Sid said, letting his eyes drift shut.


	19. 27th December 2018

27th December 2018

Sid woke up to his alarm and stumbled out of bed to grab his phone from his jeans. Geno just groaned and shifted a little under his sheets, apparently not even having the energy to turn over. Sid blinked at him for a second and considered going over there to wake him up but he always seemed to need more sleep, sometimes it was best to just let sleeping Russian’s lie.

Instead he grabbed his bag and headed to the bathroom to shower off the lingering smell of sweat from a tough game and brush the taste of alcohol out of his mouth. By the time he was done he was feeling a lot better, almost one hundred percent human and ready to get back out onto the ice.

Geno was still curled up under the blankets. Sid checked his phone again. Ten minutes until they were meant to meet for breakfast.

Geno made a guttural sound of protest when Sid pulled away the blankets, but Sid had already had to wake Geno up from enough bus rides and couch naps to know that there was no nice way to do it, he’d sleep through anything gentle. Sid climbed up onto his own bed and shoved Geno over. “Come on, morning.”

“Worst.”

Sid laughed. “Yeah, whatever. If I let you sleep through breakfast then you’ll really think I’m the worse.”

“Worst,” Geno said again, blinking. His eyes seemed to catch for a second on Sid’s lips. He raised his hand just a fraction then stopped, put it back.

Fuck that.

Sid leant over and kissed Geno like he meant it. Like he’d been waiting for months to kiss Geno like this, which he kind of had. He pressed Geno down into the bed with all his weight and dug his fingers into the flesh of Geno’s hips. Geno moaned, wiggled under him. Sid pulled back and looked down and Geno was panting, pupils wide.

“Breakfast,” Sid said, moving further back. “We’ve got a game this afternoon.”

“You worst, Sid,” Geno groaned, but he did move to get out of bed. “Most worst.”

“Yeah, well, you’ll thank me when you’ve eaten.” Sid grinned. He could definitely get used to waking Geno up like that.

***

The puck hits his stick and Sid turns, passing quickly to the next person along then re-positioning to take the next pass. It’s an easy drill, something he’s done plenty of times before but there’s a kind of optimism in the way their passes are connecting.

He was pretty pleased to work out that everyone else seemed to have avoided the hangover too and that the team seemed positive. There was talk, people laughing, the kind of sounds that hadn’t been unusual when they were winning at the start of the season but that had felt like they were missing for a while.

They were feeling good.

Another puck came his way. He caught it and sent it flying along to Geno who caught it at the last second, passing it away again almost as quickly. Geno looked over and met his eyes, smiled with a slightest hint of colour across his cheeks, then turned back to watching the ice.

It was going to be a good game.

***

It is a good game, but they still lose.

“You know, guys,” Coach says. He’s standing at the head of the table, pint glass in hand, and has something of the air of a proud father. “I don’t want you to get used to me complimenting you on a loss, but that was a hell of a good game. We went into that last period down and I thought that was it but you dug in and dragged up back up there. Connor, son, that goal in the last minute was something impressive. I’ll be surprised if I don’t see that on a highlight reel. And he dragged the bastards all the way to a shootout. It’d be better if we’d won, don’t mistake me, but you did good out there tonight, boys. You did good.”

There was a murmur of agreement around the table. It had felt like a good game. Even when they were down, it had felt better. The first Giants goal had been a fluke, and then having their own first goal disallowed had taken some energy, but they’d managed to rally and make their comeback.

Under the table, the back of Geno’s hand brushed against the back of Sid’s. Sid took a second to tangle their fingers together and squeeze before withdrawing.

“Thanks, coach,” he yelled down the table, which set of a series of other guys yelling thanks, cheering, generally making the kind of noise that’ll get you thrown out of a restaurant though they’d already finished eating so he suspected that at this point the staff were going to just cut their losses and let them get away with a little noise if it got them out of the door more quickly.

And it’s not like they hadn’t all made the booking worth it for the staff. The table was littered with plates and beer bottles. Sid had been careful, though, and nursed his single beer all night. He wanted a clear head.

“Right,” Coach said. “Let’s get the bill and then you’re all free. I’ll see you for the coach at ten tomorrow.”

There was a real cheer at that and people started moving, shoving back their chairs, searching for wallets. Sid stood up and stretched out. It felt good to be out with the guys. Conversation around the table had been easy and Geno had been right there the entire time, giving him glances over their steaks.

It had been a good day.

He dropped some money on the table then turned and headed to the bathroom. It was quieter in there and he took a moment to collect himself. He knew his team well enough to know they were about to try and drag him out for a drink. He should probably even go. Some of the younger guys had been looking up bars on their phones through dinner.

The door to the bathroom opened and Sid turned to see Nick. For a second they stood there and Sid honestly thought the other man might turn around and walk back out. Then he sighed, took a step forward and let the door shut behind him.

Sid stood up from where he’d been leaning on the sink. He took a step to the side. Should he go? He could go, but would it look weird if he rushed out of here right after Nick came in? Did it already look weird that he’d been stood there at the sink doing nothing?

He should just run...

“Good game, tonight.”

“Thanks,” Sid said, automatically. “You too. Your work around the boards is really coming on.”

“Thanks,” Nick said, and he looked surprised to have received an actual compliment. “We’ve got a good coach.”

“We have,” Sid agreed.

Apparently that was all the conversation they could stand because Nick turned sharply and went into a stall. Sid used the excuse to get out of the room and head back to the rest of the team but it was the most positive interaction they’d had yet. He liked that kind of progress.

Back in the restaurant the table was being cleared and the guys were all milling around in groups. He met Geno’s eye and Geno headed straight over to him, just like he had before, and it seemed to blindingly obvious now that Geno had feelings about him. He felt like a fool for not noticing earlier, but he’d had a lot of his mind.

“Hey,” Geno said, standing close enough that their shoulders bumped. “Kids go club, but think you’re not want. Some guys go pub. Say they been before, is good. Not too loud, good beer. Maybe we’re go.”

Sid smiled. Geno had been thinking of him. He knew, really, that given completely free reign Geno would probably go off to the club with the kids. He’d dance and sing along and draw all the kinds of attention that made Sid’s skin crawl. But he’d ruled that out, he was going to follow Sid’s lead.

Sid already had some ideas of his own about where they were going to end up, though.

“I think I’m pretty tired,” he said, raising an eyebrow as he did. “Since, you know, we stayed up talking last night. Maybe we should get an early night?”

“Sid,” Geno sounded appalled. “Not that late. So lazy. We go pub, it’s not so bad.”

Sid had this funny feeling he wasn’t being understood. He glanced around but nobody was really looking at them so he took the risk and reached out, brushed the back of his hand against the back of Geno’s hand.

“No, G. I think you really would rather go to bed with me.”

Geno’s eyes went wide. He glanced around, making sure for himself that nobody was close. They were all further away though and lost in their own conversations. His adam’s apple bobbed then he nodded slowly.

“Yes, maybe right. Maybe am tired. Play much hockey, you know.”

“I know,” Sid agreed, smiling. It was a great day. “I think a few of the others are going back, nobody’ll really mind.”

“No,” Geno agreed, swaying forward into Sid’s space like he couldn’t help himself. “We go back to hotel. Wait here, I’m get coat.”

Sid nodded. “Be quick.”

***

A few other guys were calling it a night, including coach, so they had to be respectable on the way back to the hotel. Sid took a fair amount of chirping for overdoing it the night before and Geno for being tired. They spent the walk back hanging behind the other guys, quiet, walking close enough that their elbows brushed and thinking about what was going to happen next.

Or Sid was, anyway. Honestly, he was shocked he managed to get all the way back without an embarrassing bulge showing up in his pants. It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought about Geno before, about what Geno might look like on his knees, his lips shiny from where he’d been sucking Sid’s cock, or what Geno’s hand might look like wrapped around Sid’s hard cock, or the needy, desperate noises he might make when he came. It was just that, before, it had all seemed theoretical.

Of course, Coach came in the lift with them. Sid stood with his hands shoved in his coat pockets, Geno right there beside him, and endured a horrible conversation about the cake at the restaurant until the doors finally opened to let them out and they were alone in the corridor.

The corridor was, of course, torture. Walking along beside each other, not daring to touch in case a door opened and someone recognised them. They didn’t speak. When they reached the door, Sid let them in, waited for Geno to pass him into the room then followed, making sure to push the door shut behind him.

As soon as he heard the latch click he turned and Geno was already there, backing him up against the door. Geno’s hands were on his hips, his lips on Sid’s and Sid leant into it, giving Geno his entire focus.

It felt really good, just like he’d imagined but more so. Geno was such a physical guy, always touching, and that was even more obvious now. He didn’t waste any time being shy but kissed Sid like he meant it, like he’d been thinking about it as long as Sid had. He pushed them right back against the wall so they were pressed together all down their bodies. He moved his hands up over Sid’s side then round to grab his ass in a way that wasn’t hesitant at all.

Sid loved it.

When Geno finally pulled back he already looked wrecked. His lips were always a mess but now they were shiny and raw from the kissing, his hair looked exactly like Sid’s hands had been running through it for the last however long and his cheeks were flushed.

“Hi, Sid,” he said, still pressed close enough for Sid to feel his heartbeat, smiling shyly.

“Hey, G. Having more fun than you’d have at the pub?”

Geno laughed, then leant forward, kissing below Sid’s ear, then down to his shoulder, sending little shivers through Sid. Of course, he’d suspected Geno would be good at this but still.

Geno pulled back again. He seemed to contemplate his options before leaning into kiss Sid again. Sid opened his lips but Geno help back, kept the kiss slow and sensual in a way that had Sid groaning into his mouth, pressing forward into his solid warmth.

When Geno pulled back this time he looked deeply pleased with himself. His hand had found the way to Sid’s hip again and his thumb has stroking its way up under Sid’s t-shirt.

“Think this most fun.”

“Think it’d be more fun if we were naked,” Sid said, reaching out to tug at Geno’s shirt.

“Oh, you’re want see? Yes, of course, am most sexy. Of course you’re want see.” He said it with his cheeky smile like it was a joke but Sid didn’t think it was. He’d been stealing half glances and speculating and trying not to be a creepy for so long and now he had Geno here, willing, enthusiastic even. He wasn’t going to throw that away.

“Yes, I want to see. You know I do.”

“So demanding,” Geno said, but he stepped back, grabbing one of Sid’s hands as he went. He moved further into the room, leading Sid over to their conjoined single beds and pushing him until he sat, eyes never leaving Geno. Geno then proceeded to strip. He did it slowly, methodically, stretching as he did to show the long lines of his body in a way that made Sid’s mouth dry. He kept making eye contact as he did, it was the most intense striptease Sid had ever seen.

He was rock hard in his pants. He moved his hand to press into his dick, willing it to calm down a bit. There was no need to rush.

But then Geno was completely naked and climbing onto the bed, knees either side of Sid’s hips. He pushed gently as Sid’s shoulder and Sid folded backwards onto the bed. He felt weirdly vulnerable, lay out there under Geno, though he was the one with all his clothes still on.

Then Geno was kissing him again and all thought went out of his head.

It was better this time, more intense. With so much naked flesh right there he could finally feel the play of muscles in Geno’s shoulders as he flexed, the tightening of his abs as he moved above Sid. Sid let himself be greedy, let himself map every inch of Geno with the soft pads of his fingers. Geno seemed happy to oblige, moving and flexing for Sid, moaning into his mouth when Sid found a particularly sensitive spot.

And then Sid’s fingers were brushing against the head of Geno’s dick, hard and heavy between them. Geno really gasped then, pulling back a little. Sid watched him, tried to memorise the flex of his neck and the play of the shitty hotel light across his face.

He was fucking beautiful.

Sid reached down further and trailed his fingers along Geno’s shaft, keeping his touch maddeningly light. He found Geno’s balls and skirted over them too, not enough pressure to do anything, more of a gentle hello.

“Sid,” Geno said, and he sounded almost wrecked. “Please, do properly.”

“What, am I doing it wrong?”

Geno groaned and let his head fall onto Sid’s shoulder as Sid laughed. Still, he’d take pity on the poor guy. Sid nudged Geno until he pulled himself up again then brought his own hand up to his mouth and licked it made a show of getting it nice and wet, then he reached down and wrapped his hand around Geno’s cock.

Geno gasped, said something in Russian, then dropped his head back down onto Sid’s shoulder. He was hunched over Sid now, pulling his hips up to give Sid better access. Sid rested one hand on Geno’s hip and used the other to jerk him, slowly, then more insistently, taking his cues from the hot gasps of breath on his neck. Geno was trembling above him, making little aborted thrusts into Sid’s hand and Sid wished he could do this forever. He wished he had all day to lie Geno out on his bed and take him apart, bring him right up to the brink of orgasm again and again, watch the way Geno’s body shuddered, the way he lost control, his fingers grasping blindly in the sheets.

Geno came. He did it with Sid’s name on his lips, shooting his load all over Sid’s hand and his t-shirt. He froze there for a moment, tense with the orgasm, then slowly collapsed, unrolling himself until he lay down across Sid, his face still pressed into Sid’s shoulder, his legs curled up so they weren’t hanging off the bed like Sid’s.

Sid was so fucking hard. He could feel his cock leaking in his underwear. Every movement was a brush of agony as his boxers shifted against him.

He wiped his hand on the sheets then squirmed until he managed to get his jeans open and his hand inside. He wrapped his hand around his cock and started jerking himself quickly, tightly, just the way he liked it. He was so close. So fucking close.

Then Geno’s hand was wrapping around his, moving with him, and Sid looked down to see their hands together around his dick and he came.

It was a while between either of them tried to move. They started by trading a few slow kisses, slightly less heated now. Geno was the first to actually get himself upright. He stumbled into the bathroom and turned the shower on, leaving the door open. Sid forced himself up. He stripped, finally, dumping his clothes on the floor then let himself into the bathroom too.

The room was too small and badly designed for two adult hockey players to cram into the shower stall but Geno got out of the way so Sid could wash, towelling himself dry as Sid cleaned drying come from his stomach then waiting with the towel so when Sid stepped out into the cold bathroom Geno was waiting, new clean towel ready, and patting him down, rubbing all over his body in a way that was more comforting than sexual, an act of care.

They held hands as they went back out into the bedroom. Sid went to find his phone. He’d dumped it on the table when he came in, he had a few drunken texts, mostly from Callum, but nothing that wouldn’t keep until the morning.

When he turned back, Geno was rearranging the bedding.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m fix sheets,” Geno said. He looked up and something in his face shifted when he saw Sid’s expression. “So we’re sleep together? Think you want.”

Oh, he was making them a double bed. Sid relaxed. “Yeah, I want that.”

Geno smiled, nodded, went back to his rearranging. Sid went to help him and between them they remade the best as best they could, sheets overlapping to create something that should keep them both warm. When they were done, Geno crawled right in so Sid followed him. He probably shouldn’t have been surprised at how easy it was to fit in Geno’s arms but he was anyway. He ended up the little spoon, Geno’s warmth plastered along the length of his back. It was nice. He rarely got to be the little spoon.

They lay there in the warm glow of each other for a few minutes before Geno broke the silence.

“Still not sure this is a good idea, Sid. Is going to be tough, us be together.”

Sid snorted. “Yeah, definitely. I mean, I’ve had plenty of tough relationships in my time by fucking your teammate is generally pretty messy.”

“You do before?”

“I mean... I fooled around with some guys when I was a kid, I guess. Locker room gays. Like, the kind of guy who insists he’s straight but if you want to trade the odd hand job, well, that’s just bros helping bros out.”

Geno snorted. Sid wasn’t sure if that was acknowledgement that they had that kind of guy in Russia too or just that men in general were idiots.

“I’m never do. Not with guy.”

“Oh, well, it’s pretty much the same, I think. I mean, sex is different I guess but most of the relationship stuff...”

“Maybe you’re patient with me. Got a lot to learn.”

“I’m good at being patient,” Sid said, finding Geno’s hand and lacing their fingers together. “And it’s going to be worth it, right? All the sneaking around and whatever. It’s going to be worth it.”

Geno pressed another soft kiss just behind his ear.

“Yes, definitely worth it.”


	20. 28th December 2018

28th December 2018

Sit turned off the car then sat back in his seat, stretching out a little. He’d had a broken night’s sleep in the end between guys stumbling in drunk and helping Callum manoeuvre a few of the guys into their rooms at odd hours of the morning. He’d been happy to see that Callum himself, while not completely sober, was more tipsy than drunk and seemed to mostly be in control of himself.

Honestly, he hadn’t minded the helping so much. He liked being the kind of guy people could call if they got into trouble and, also, every time he’d crawled back into bed Geno had reached for him and pulled him close and that’d been pretty awesome.

Historically, he wasn’t very much for cuddling in bed. He got the idea Geno was going to be an exception in a lot of ways.

The morning had been spent prying the guys out of bed, handing them coffee and pointing them to the bus. They’d been quiet on the way back but, despite the losses, it wasn’t a bad kind of quiet. Sid had sat next to Geno like he always did. It felt almost wrong to be behaving exactly like he did before now that he’d touched Geno’s dick but, well.

The plane had been easy and the coach back to the rink. He’d dropped Callum home and now here they were, in front of the house.

“So glad be home,” Geno moaned, stretching out his arms. “Plane ride so long.”

“It really wasn’t.”

Geno snorted then rolled his shoulders in a way that did funny things to Sid’s stomach.

He reached over and opened his door. It felt good to be out of the car and he stood there for a second, stretching, before turning to open the trunk and grab his bags. Geno was out of the car too, doing his own stretching and groaning.

Sid really should go do some reading. He hadn’t even opened the book he’d taken on the road trip and, sure, all his assignments were handed in and this was really pre-reading for his next module. But he’d meant to do it and he hadn’t and he’d hardly spent any time thinking about what they were going to take away from their losses in Belfast and how he was going to improve his game.

Geno had grabbed his bags and moved them to the pavement. He yawned, stretching his arms above his head and making his shirt ride up and reveal a thin, tempting strip of skin.

Fuck it.

“Hey,” Sid said, locking the car. “Want to come in. We could watch a movie or, you know...”

Geno laughed. “Invite me over for you know, so romantic Sid.”

“Shut up, I wasn’t trying to be romantic. I could totally be romantic if I wanted to.”

“Of course,” Geno said, sticking his tongue out a little. “Sid captain of romance. Make big play, score romance goals. Even go on romance power play.”

“Look, shut up. Are you coming in or not?”

“Yes, Sid,” Geno said, lounging against Sid’s door. “I’m come in. We do you know, then watch movie. Then sleep.”

Waking up in the morning here in Liverpool with Geno curled around him. Sid really liked that thought.

“Sounds like a plan.”


	21. Tuesday 1st January 2019

Tuesday 1st January 2019

Sid was pretty glad that their January first skate was an afternoon affair. He’d only finally stumbled in from the new year’s eve party at three am, and then he and Geno had to make up for all the lucky new years kisses they hadn’t been able to have at midnight. He wasn’t normally the kind of guy who slept in, but he’d made an exception, finally dragging them both out of bed just in time to meet the guys for a pre-skate lunch.

And now he was out, ice under his blades, and it felt good.

Nobody was working particularly hard. Technically it was a practice but, instead of making them run drills, coach was sat on the bench with a cup of coffee in his hand chatting to his A. A few guys were talking lazy shots on the goalie, who was trying to save them in the most dramatic way possible. Nick was messing around with a puck in the corner, bouncing it off the boards and catching it. Callum was skating circles of the rink, weaving in and out of the other skaters and Geno, Geno was annoying Sid.

“Sid,” Geno said, skating by again, slow and lazy, “come try take puck.”

Sid knew full well that if he actually tried to take that puck, Geno would be away up the ice like a flash, puck gone with him. Sid could probably chase Geno down, maybe even bully the puck off his stick, but he wasn’t feeling it today.

“It’s okay, you keep the puck.”

“So boring,” Geno said. He came past again, temptingly close. Sid was sure he could snag that puck if he just reached out a little bit further.

Then Geno turned and was away down the ice again, taking the puck with him. Sid sighed and watched him go. He dangled the puck at a few other guys until he finally got one to break off shooting to come and try to chase him down.

Callum skidded to a stop next to him, throwing up ice. Sid tried to look annoyed but he wasn’t sure he pulled it off.

“How’s it going, Captain?”

“Good,” Sid said, watching Geno dodge at the last minute, keeping the puck. If he could carry on playing like that he’d probably be breaking his points drought in the next game. “Did you have fun last night?”

“Yeah, the party was good. It felt, I don’t know, good. Kind of like it did at the start of the season...”

Sid was glad he wasn’t the only one who felt that. “Yeah, I get it. Feels like we’re headed to good places again.”

“Yeah. I wonder if it’s because you and Geno made up.”

Sid snorted.

“What, when parents fight it’s tough on the kids.”

“None of you are our kids.”

“You’re the Captain, we’re all your kids. Oh, I should totally talk the other guys into calling you Dad.”

“Please don’t.”

“Well, you don’t have any other nickname,” Callum said, as though that was perfect justification for just starting to call someone Dad.

“So, if I’m Dad, is Geno Mom?”

“No, you’re right, you should be Mum.”

“Hey,” Sid said, but Callum was already skating away again, laughing. He hoped the kid didn’t follow through on that, he had enough problems in his life without an entire room of grown men calling him Mom.

“Crosby, over here.”

He looked over to the bench were coach was waving at him. The assistant coach had gone now and there was another guy there instead. A young kid, kind of skinny, a little wide eyed. Sid pushed off and skated over to the bench.

“Yeah, Coach.”

“Want you to meet Sammy. He’ll be taking over from Dylan on the offense so we can swap Milner back over to defence. Sammy, this is your new captain, Sidney Crosby. He’d a good guy, he’ll look out for you.”

“Nice to meet you,” Sammy said, shifting forward on the bench and sticking out his hand. Sid leant over the boards to grab it and shake it. “I think I played with a guy you used to play with, Sanders?”

“Oh, yeah,” Sid said. The name rang the vaguest of bells but, honestly, he’d played with so many guys over the years. “You’ve been in the ECHL, right?”

“Yeah,” Sammy said. “But I’m excited to try something new.”

“Relax, kid,” Coach was smirking, “It’s not an interview, you’re already here. You want to go find your skates and get out onto the ice?”

“Oh, for sure.” The kid’s face lit up and Sid couldn’t help but smile. He was probably going to fit in great around here.

“Come find me when you get on the ice, I’ll introduce you around.”

“Definitely,” the guy said, then shuffled himself off down the bench. Sid stood for a second and chatted with Coach, just about life. His kid was moving to a new school because they hadn’t really been fitting in at the closest one and that seemed to be big on his mind. Sid didn’t really know anything about schools but he was pretty good at nodding and saying sure, so there was that.

Then Sammy way back on the ice and Sid did as he promised, skating him slowly around and introducing him to the guys one by one. Most of them were happy enough to stop and chat to him for a second, Callum even trailed them around the ice, chirping whoever they were talking to which Sammy seemed to find hilarious.

They finished up in the corner with the vets and even Nick was nice, though he seemed more relaxed in general that he had been before the new year. Maybe things were looking up for him.

“I think that’s everyone,” Sid said, looking out over the ice. Most of the guys were drifting round now in groups or standing in clumps, having realised that Coach wasn’t actually going to make them work.

“Thanks,” Sammy said, his eyes flitting between groups. “I guess this isn’t a normal practice.”

“Oh, definitely not. You’re going to have to work your ass off, but today’s about team and about bonding so enjoy it.”

“Sure,” Sammy said, and then he pushed off and headed away, aiming straight for where Callum was trying to talk Geno into a race. Sid watched him go, watched him check Callum gently into the boards then take off, getting Callum to chase him down.

It was good. He could only hope this one was going to be a better influence than the last one.

“Hey, Sid. Can I talk to you for a second?”

Sid turned in surprise. Nice was standing by the boards, a puck on his stick, watching Sid. He nodded when Sid looked over like he wanted to confirm that, yes, it was actually him who’d spoken.

“Sure, what do you need?”

Nick looked uncomfortable for a second. He knocked his puck about then sighed. “Look, my puck protection is shit, we both know that. I keep making stupid turnovers and I’m really sick of hearing about it. I was wondering if you’d work on them with me. I mean, not right now obviously, we’re nearly done here, but some time...”

“Oh, for sure,” Sid nodded. “We can book a session whenever you’re free. I can be pretty flexible when I’m not in lectures.”

Nick blinked. It seemed to take him a minute to work through what he wanted to say and Sid wondered if he’d been expecting a fight. Sid had no intention of giving him one.

“I... thanks. I’ll check with work then text you with some times that I’m free.”

“For sure.” Sid nodded. He was saved for any more potential awkwardness by Coach bellowing at them to get their asses off the ice and into the locker room.

The locker room was buzzing. Guys laughing, chirping each other. They’d set Sammy in the stall next to Callum, which made sense since this was Dylan’s old stall, and he seemed to be settling in okay there. Sid did a quick circuit of the room checking in on the guys, making sure they were okay. When he finally made it all the way back to his stall, most of the guys were already dressed and Geno laughed at him.

“You do big check, make sure everyone okay.”

“Well, yeah,” Sid said, sitting down to pull his skates free. “I’m their captain.”

“Best captain,” Geno agreed, moving over to bump their shoulders together. Sid suddenly and sharply wished he could reach out and grab Geno’s hand, but that wasn’t possible right now. It was okay, Geno would probably let Sid hold his hand later while they watched a movie or shove his feet into Geno’s lap while he read and Geno played on his phone.

It was a good life.

The door banged open and Coach came in, the other staff guys trailing behind them. Geno gave him a significant look and Sid just shrugged, he hadn’t known they were in for a talk today. The other guys around the room seemed to notice in clumps and fell silent, focusing on Coach.

“Alright,” he said, putting his hands on his hips. “I’m not going to lie to you guys, things aren’t looking great right now. I mean, we’re miles up on where we were last year and that’s good. You’re all working hard, I’m not here to lay blame, but where we’re sat right now, we’re not going to win the league. Even if all the top teams forgot how to hold a stick tomorrow, we’d be lucky to get anywhere near a league win.”

Geno’s shoulder bumped against him, a show of support. Sid let himself lean into it for a second. He’d wanted that, wanted to come in and somehow have the team completely turn around overnight. He’d known it was a pipe dream but still...

“Right now, we’re in a playoff spot. Just. We’re sat at eighth and the top eight teams have a chance. I know you guys over here don’t make a big deal out of the playoffs like we do in the US, you prefer to win the league, but let’s look at facts, this team hasn’t made the playoffs in a long time. We can’t give our fans a league win now but we can get them to playoffs.

“It’s gonna be tough to keep that spot. The league’s real tight and a lot of guys are playing better than us. We’re going to have to turn ourselves around and actually start winning games but we can do this.

“From now on, when you think about what you want, I want you to think about that playoff spot. That’s your goal. Any questions? Good. Get yourselves ready, boys. We’ve got a good atmosphere back, I can feel you all want to win. Let’s go out there and show them what kind of team we are.”

In his booth, Sid lean into Geno as much as he dared.

He was getting this team to playoffs if he had to drag them there himself.


	22. Monday 7th January 2019

Monday 7th January 2019

Sid opened the door and stopped, eyebrow raised. “Since when do you knock?” Geno was stood on the doorstep holding a couple of bags and looking weirdly sheepish. “Is something wrong? Did you mess something up?”

“Why you always think mess up? I’m not mess up.”

Sid raised an eyebrow which was apparently enough to make Geno blush.

“Here, I’m bring this.”

He thrust out one of the bags. Sid took it and opened it, takeout. He was about to hand it back and remind Geno about their diet plan when he caught sight of the menu shoved down the side of the plastic takeout containers. His favourite Chinese. The one Geno hated because it didn’t do seaweed and he couldn’t work out what the point of Chinese was if he couldn’t cover it with seaweed.

“You brought me my favourite takeout.”

“Yes,” Geno agreed, still looking a little suspicious. “I’m try to cook, only it’s no go so well and I’m think maybe you’re like this more.”

“Oh,” Sid said. He stepped back and let Geno shuffle into his living room. It looked kind of a mess. After the two losses over the weekend had pushed them out of the playoff spot, cleaning hadn’t exactly been high on his agenda and, honestly, he’d spent most of the day moping. “Thanks. You didn’t need to do this.”

“Know I’m not need,” Geno said, tone making it clear that he thought Sid was being weird. “You’re do nice things for people you’re like, yes.”

“Yeah,” Sid said. “You want me to get plates?”

“Yes,” Geno nodded, heading for Sid’s table. Sid followed him, set the bag down on the only corner not covered in papers and other uni work, then headed to the kitchen. He’d not exactly kept up on his washing up either and he had to wash a couple of forks but he managed to unearth everything they’d need for Chinese.

When he came back into the living room, Geno had turned out the lights. He’d apparently cleared the table too as Sid’s mess of notes was gone, replaced with a single candle in the middle of the table and an actual table cloth.

“Oh good, plates,” Geno said, intercepting him and taking them. He went back to the table and set them down, putting them out all nicely like Sid’s mom had when they were kids and he had to set the table. He approached slowly as Geno began opening cartons and serving them both, heaping large quantities of Sid’s favourite foods onto his plate.

“Are you trying to cheer me up?”

Geno stopped, thinking for a second, then shrugging. “Maybe little bit. Mostly, I’m decide be captain of romance.”

“You what?”

“I’m be captain of romance. You’re so busy be captain of hockey, have many things to worry about. I’m think what I’m do to help, think maybe I’m be captain of romance. Am good at romance, many people say. Thought first that maybe I’m take you to restaurant, have big night out, but then I’m worry that people see us and also I’m know you’re hermit, like to stay in house. So I’m think make you romantic dinner, only I’m burn, so is takeout. But I’m bring candle, tablecloth, most romantic.”

Sid blinked and, yeah, when he looked at it like that it kind of was. Geno had gone to a lot of trouble for him, had got his favourite food and made this little bit of time when he didn’t have to worry about scoring or playoff spots.

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Geno. Geno returned the hug, resting his cheek on the top of Sid’s head and for a minute they just stood there, breathing each other in.

Fuck, it had been a long week. Sid wouldn’t have minded so much if he knew what to do. When they’d been playing badly he’d been able to identify drills and now, while there were still things to work on, then were doing okay.

But there were Geno’s arms around him and a romantic dinner and he didn’t need to think about that.

“Come on,” he said, pulling back a little, “Let’s eat.”

“Yes,” Geno agreed. He pulled Sid in one more time to press a quick kiss to the top of his head and Sid’s heart fluttered. He loved how soft it was, how casual. Geno had always given touch and affection so freely that Sid knew he shouldn’t be surprised to be receiving it now but still.

Geno let him go and he moved to grab a chair. Geno finished serving up the food and Sid accepted a plate that would definitely give a nutritionist a heart attack and dug in.

“So,” Geno said, his foot gently moving to rub at Sid’s ankle as he spoke, “Tell me your best date.”

“Like, the best date I’ve ever been on or the best date I can imagine.”

“Both?” Geno smiled at that, the same smile he used when he stole a puck at practice. Sid wanted to reach over and kiss it right off his face.

“I mean, I’ve not really been on any spectacular dates. When I’ve dated guys in the past I’ve had to be quiet about it so I mostly just, you know, we’d go out for meals or to the cinema but nothing really, I don’t know, extravagant. But I’m not even sure what they’d look like. I mean, I like this. You brought me my favourite things and we’re, like, really close to my bedroom so...”

“What, you think we have sex on first date? Sid, so bold!”

Sid snorted. “If you want to wait until the second date then we should probably have talked about that earlier.” He was already intimately familiar with the feeling of Geno’s dick in his hand. They’d been taking it slowly, letting Geno get used to it. He’d never touched anyone else’s dick before, after all, but he seemed to be enjoying exploring Sid’s. They’d spent on afternoon in bed with Sid trying to lie as still as he could while Geno just trailed slow, gentle touches over Sid, learning all the ways he could make Sid squirm.

“Okay, so maybe we’re go to bed after. That’s what you want for date? Takeaway and fuck? Is good thing I’m captain of romance and not you.”

“No, I just... you got me my favourites. I guess I like that it shows you know me. Like, that I mean something to you. We’re not just doing this because it’s convenient.”

“No, is least convenient.”

“Exactly. But you still like me.”

“Yes, I’m like,” Geno said. He extended his hand across the table then and it’d have been impolite not to take it, to let Geno’s hand wrap around his.

“So, what about you? What was your best date?”

“Is easy. Girl I’m date, take me to zoo. Is big thing, get to go meet all animals. Get to hold snake, think maybe they’re let me pet lion but say no.”

“I’m glad they did, I like you with both your hands.”

“Yes, I’m see you like my hands,” Geno said, then cheeky smile back again. Sid blushed, it wasn’t like he could deny it.

“We could go to the zoo, maybe. There’s one around here I think. It’s not, like, so obvious a date thing that people would freak out if they saw us doing it together. We’d just have to, like, not hold hands or whatever.”

“Yes,” Geno agreed, his entire face lighting up. “Would love.”

“I’ll look into it. It can’t be that far.”

“No, I’m look. Am captain of romance, not you.”

“But if it’s something nice for you then I should be doing it, that’s how relationships work. You can still be captain of romance, I guess, but I’m allowed to spoil you sometimes too; to do nice things for you.”

Geno seemed to think that over for a second before sighing, apparently giving in and agreeing. “Yes, okay. You’re plan big zoo date, I’m think of good date for Sid.”

“You already thought of a good date for me.”

“Yes,” Geno agreed, nodding. “After food we’re cuddle on couch, I’m know you love. Watch favourite movie. Get nice and warm, comfortable.”

“Then you’re going to touch my dick, right?”

“No romance,” Geno said, but he couldn’t hide his smile. “Yes, since you’re ask so nice, I’m touch dick.”

“Good, I just like to be clear. And Geno, thank you.”

“No problem. I’m do any time for best boyfriend.”

That warm thing fluttered in Sid’s stomach again. Boyfriend. He liked that. He really, really liked that.


	23. Wednesday 16th January 2019

Wednesday 16th January 2019

“Sid?”

“In the kitchen.”

He listened to Geno shuffling around in the doorway, probably taking off his boots, and went over to grab a couple more slices of bread. He was half way through constructing his own sandwich so it seemed only polite to make one for Geno, too. He was layering on slices of tomato when Geno finally appeared in the door, shoeless and in an oversized hoodie.

“You check phone?”

“Here, I made you an sandwich. Do you want salad cream on this?”

“No mayo?”

“I guess there might be some in the fridge...”

Geno nodded and took himself over to the fridge, rooting around and making a little noise of triumph when he came out with a bottle of mayo. Sid scooted one of the sandwiches over to him and spread a little salad cream on his own. He’d picked a bottle up in the supermarket a few months ago out of curiosity and then ended up kind of loving it. Geno thought it was hilarious.

“You check phone?”

“Not in a while, I was working. Do I need to check my phone?”

“Maybe good idea. Thank you for sandwich.” Geno stepped in and pressed a kiss to Sid’s forehead, and Sid was never going to get tired of all these casual touches. He’d never really thought of himself as a tactile guy before, now he thought maybe he just hadn’t found anyone he wanted to be tactile with.

“Nobody’s dead, are they?”

“No, not so dramatic. Panthers sack head coach.”

“Really?” Sid asked, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t know things were that bad there.”

“Not know all details yet. I’m text Lacho and Stevie, try get better idea.” Sid snorted because of course Geno had numbers for a couple of guys from the Panthers. He seemed to just magically make friends wherever he went. “Maybe you’re want to check phone, though. Some guys maybe freak out little bit.”

“Why?” Sid asked, grabbing his plate. “Not like it’s our coach who’s been fired.”

Geno shrugged and trailed after Sid as he went through to the living room. He’d left his phone turned off but on the coffee table. He turned it on now and as soon as he did, it started lighting up with text messages.

“Geez, you weren’t lying about them stressing out. Callum says he’s on his way over here, I’m not sure why he thinks he needs to do that.”

“Maybe he just thinks is nice to see.”

“Well, yeah, it’s always nice to see him but that doesn’t mean he needs to come round here. Shit, I think most of the team have texted me. This is going to take all day.”

“I’m take care,” Geno said, holding his hand out for Sid’s phone.

“What are you going to do?”

“Make group chat. Then I’m text everyone at once, say not to panic. Should have group chat anyway.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sid handed his phone over. Geno was always so much better at that anyway. He finished his sandwich then looked around the room. It was pretty clean, fine for him and Geno, but if Callum was coming over he needed to pick up some of his uni notes and things. He cleaned around then went to make a pot of coffee and when he came back Geno was still leant over his phone, frowning.

“What?” he asked, nudging at Geno’s knee. Geno grunted and shifted, making room at his side in what felt like an invitation. Sid slumped down into the space, leaning against Geno. “Have things gotten worse?”

“No, guys just make big panic. Sheffield also release three guys yesterday.”

Sid grunted. He reached out for his phone and Geno set it in his palm then opened his own phone. About six of the guys seemed to be active at the moment, one voice of reason pointing out that actually they were doing okay for what was expected for them this season, A couple of imports worrying about getting released, the rest just seeming doom and gloom.

He kind of got it. The Panthers had been in the same kind of spiral they’d been in. They hadn’t been able to buy a win in like a month either and it was tempting to look at them making big changes and see big changes coming for the Liverpool Liver.

Sid really hoped there weren’t changes coming. He never did too well with change.

“Okay,” he said, thumbing a little further up the chat. “This is all getting kind of ridiculous. I think I’m gonna just invite the guys to come around here. We can talk calmly like adults.”

“Yes, good plan,” Geno nodded. “We’re get pizza, drinks, have little party. Everyone feel better.”

Sid had been thinking more of a team meeting but a party sounded like it could work. “Okay. Send a text.”

“Will do,” Geno said.

The door banged open. Sid sat up quickly, pulling away from Geno’s side. Callum came spinning into the room, eyes wide. “Oh god, you’ve seen the news. Tell me you’ve seen the news.”

“About the Panther’s guy? Yeah,” Sid said, making sure to keep his voice level.

“Yeah, unless there’s something else. Has there been something else?”

“No,” Sid said. He stood up, making sure he made his movements slow and clear. “Are you okay? Do you need to come sit down.”

“No. I... I don’t know.”

“You’re freaking out. You do know you don’t need to freak out about this, right? This is happening to another team. You’re safe.”

Callum laughed a dry, painful sort of laugh. “Am I? I just... I saw it and I got to thinking, like, we’re probably not going to make any big moves like this because it’s not like we’re in the toilet like we were last year, but they’re sucking so badly at the moment and we’ve got to change, I know we’ve got to change but I don’t know how to do it and if they do need to get rid of someone then it’s gotta be me, right? I had that thing where I was a real fucking idiot with Dylan and...”

“Breath,” Sid said, stepping in close. He reached out to grip Callum’s arm and Callum just kind of crumpled, leaning in to press his forehead into Sid’s shoulder and grabbing hold of his jacket. “We’re not getting rid of you.”

“They might. You don’t make that decision.”

“Won’t,” Geno said, and Sid was really glad of the backup. “Team needs Brits, is rules. They not get rid of you.”

“See, listen to Geno.”

“I’m think maybe they get rid of me.”

“What?” Sid spun as much as he could with Callum hanging off him. Geno was still sat on the couch, “We’re not going to get rid of you.” 

“You say, but when I’m last score goal?”

“You got an assist in our last game.”

“Assist,” Geno snorted. “Not even worth mention, get assist. Need goal. Think maybe I’m just weight, drag club down.”

“You’re both so dramatic,” Sid said, trying to ignore the uneasy stirring in the pit of his stomach. “Nobody’s being released. And if someone was going to be released, it wouldn’t be either of you guys. You’re both valuable. Yeah, you’ve been struggling lately, but we all have. We’re going to turn it around. I know we are.”

“Easy for say,” Geno said. “Not so easy for do.”

“It’s just, look, there’s no point panicking about this. Maybe there’ll be changes, maybe we’ll turn the corner and be fine, maybe we won’t. The only thing you can control is how well you play. As long as you’re going out there and playing the best game you can, you don’t need to worry.”

Geno snorted and for a second Sid thought he was going to argue, but then he slumped, letting his head fall back onto the back of the couch. “Is normal for worry, Sid. Not all have three year deal like you.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sid said. He tried very hard not to think about that, how he was committed to this place and Geno wasn’t, how the elite league turned over their players so quickly, how the odds of Geno still being with him next year were so incredibly low.

“But also have point, no good worry now. Plan party instead, keep busy?”

“Party?” Callum asked, finally stepping back a little and releasing his death grip on Sid’s sweater.

“Yes, I’m send text. All guys come later, be worry together with pizza instead of be worry alone at home.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s an awesome idea. Can I help?”

Sid was all in favour of Callum helping, it seemed a good way to stop him worrying himself sick.

“Yes. Right, you and Geno are in charge of food. I need to clean.”

“Can’t be in charge of food,” Geno said, grinning. “Neither of us drive.”

Shit, that was right. He certainly wasn’t leaving either of them to clean his apartment, though. He’d been hoping to eek out a few minutes of quiet before the hoard descended just to sort through the mess of emotions the thought of Geno leaving made in his gut and get a good enough hold on then that they wouldn’t surprise him again.

“God, you’re so lazy, we can just get the bus,” Callum said. “How do you think I normally get around. Come one.”

“Bus?” Geno asked, looking genuinely devastated. “Hate.”

“It’s okay, Callum’ll talk to the driver for you,” Sid said. He was honestly shocked that Geno hadn’t somehow managed to charm every bus driver who came near their place, but something about the rush and the background noise seemed to make them have trouble with his accent and he hated them.

“Worst,” Geno said, but he sighed as he did, prying himself out of the couch. “Okay, we’re give you quiet time. Come back with lots of pizza, maybe vodka.”

“No vodka,” Sid interrupted. “I don’t want people here all night drinking.”

“Beer?”

“Sure, a beer with their pizza is fine, I guess. No vodka, though.”

“No vodka, promise.” Geno said. He’d moved around the couch and, for a second, Sid thought he was going to lean in for a hug or a kiss with Callum right there, but then he was past Sid and looping his long arms around Callum’s shoulder, steering him out of the door and leaving Sid in blessed silence.

He waited for a minutes, listening to make sure they weren’t about to turn around and come right back, then locked his door and went to get into the shower. He did all his best thinking there.

The problem was, he found pretty quickly, he didn’t want to think about it. Every time his brain brushed up against the idea of Geno leaving, either now or at the end of the season, it just rejected it. He’d think it and the entire thing felt so overwhelming that he’d end up thinking about something else, something less painful.

In the end he decided it was best to just hope it didn’t come up again, get out of the shower and actually cleaned the place up. He even got a couple of chapters of reading done before Callum and Geno came spilling back through the door, a taxi boot full of frozen pizzas, beers and snacks with them.

Apparently the trip had been good for them as they were both back in more normal moods, laughing and shoving each other and gently making fun of Sid. He let them, even played up to it a little to hear them laugh. When the other guys started to trickle in he played the host, greeting them and taking coats and sending them through to Geno, who gave them pizza, then Callum, who was finding places to sit.

Honestly, the air wasn’t as grim as he thought it might have been. A few guys seemed to want to complain but most of them were talking about next steps, what they did to make sure they weren’t in the position to lose their jobs or their coach, and Sid appreciated that.

A few guys had idea and they ended up gathered around the coffee table with him, paper spread out, thinking up strategies and drills they could use to try and improve. Geno even hovered for a little while and offered some thing’s he’d done in the KHL and while it was up to coach in the end, it felt good to look down at the plans and know they had ideas, that they weren’t giving up.

And then the guys were all shuffling out, saying their goodbyes, heading off into the night. Sid thanked each of them for coming, like his mom taught him, and was careful not to hurry them along, but he was still pretty glad when he closed the door after the last one.

Geno was still there, of course, sprawled out all over the couch, a plate of cold pizza balanced on his chest. Callum was curled up in the chair, staring into space.

“Come on,” he said, walking over and squeezing Callum’s shoulder. “I’ll drive you home.”

Callum blinked at him then nodded, unfolding himself and following Sid out to the car.

“Thanks,” Callum said, about half way through the drive. “For calming me down today. You didn’t need to.”

“Of course I did,” Sid said. “You’re my friend. That’s what friends are for, calming you down when you’re freaking out.”

“Still, thanks. I know I shouldn’t let things get to me like that. It’s just, well, I get in my head sometimes, you know.”

“I know. Did you go to the doctor like we talked about?”

“I’ve got an appointment next week. It’s kind of scary, you know. I just...”

“Do you want me to go with you? Make sure you don’t conveniently forget?”

“I... you’d do that?”

“Sure,” Sid said. “We’re friends.”

“I... thanks. Yeah, that’d be awesome. Is it okay if I text you, like, the time and stuff?”

“Sure.”

Callum nodded. For a second he was quiet and then, “I just, I really let it go to my head today. I got thinking about how I messed up, then I got thinking about what happens if I don’t have hockey any more. Because, like, what do I do then? I haven’t got a job, I live with my parents. I mean, I could try to sign with another team I guess, but I don’t want to right now and I just... it’s a lot.”

“It is,” Sid agreed. “Look, it’s not like I haven’t thought about what happens after hockey. I have, and it’s really scary. I don’t blame you for freaking out a little but you’re young, you’ve got your entire life in front of you. You’ll work it out.”

“I guess,” Callum said, slumping in his seat a little more. “I mean, I guess I need a job anyway. It’s not like the hockey pays me much...”

“I can help you look. Or, well, Geno might be better at that. He probably knows three guys who need someone to do some work for them, you know how he is.”

“Yeah,” Callum agreed. “I mean, I guess I should ask. And maybe... you know Eddy’s a builder, he said something about them looking for some guys. I’m not sure building’s going to be a good fit for me, but I guess you don’t know until you try.”

“No, you don’t. And you’re only a kid really, Callum. You’ve got a lot of potential. You can try things, change your mind. You’ll find something that works for you.”

“Yeah. Hey, Sid, can I tell you something?”

“Sure?” He wasn’t sure what else they had to cover but it seemed to be deep talks hour.

“I think I’m gay.”

He nodded. Yeah, that kind of made sense. He definitely preferred hanging around guys to girls. 

“That’s great, Callum. Thanks for telling me.”

“I mean, I know I am. But it’s kind of... I’m dating someone now.”

“Oh, that’s awesome.”

“I... Paul. You know Paul, his dad’s super pushy and he plays for the amateur team and...”

“I know Paul,” Sid assured him. That made sense too, in a way. Paul had definitely had stars in his eyes over Callum for a while and there was a bit of age between them but it wasn’t like it was massive. “I’m glad for you.”

“Cool. I just, he said I could tell you. I was really stressed about anyone on the team finding out and he said I should just tell you and...”

“It’s okay,” Sid promised. He took a deep breath, no time like the present. “I’m gay too.”

“You’re what?” He glanced over and Callum was looking incredulous. 

“I’m gay. That’s why Paul knew you’d be okay coming out to me, I picked his drunk ass off the floor of a gay bar once.”

“You’re... seriously? You’re gay?”

“Is that so weird?”

“I mean, I guess not. I just... yeah. I’m glad. I mean, it means I can trust you with this, right? It’s going to be okay.”

“It’s going to be okay,” Sid promised. They were turning onto Callum’s street now, the lights of his house up ahead. “Just be careful with Paul, okay. He’s a good kid, you’re both good kids. Be good to one another.”

“I’m gonna try,” Callum said. Sid pulled up. Callum grabbed his things then quickly reached over, wrapping his arms around Sid. Sid hugged him back for a second then let go, watching Callum almost throw himself out of the car and over to his parent’s terrace house.

He waited until he was inside then turned the car around and headed home.

Geno was still sacked out on the couch, though he’d apparently cleaned at least. He was playing some weird Russian music on his phone but he turned it off when Sid came back in, shifting over so Sid could sprawl next to him, half on top of him, head tucked into Geno’s neck.

“You okay?”

He thought for a second before saying, “Yeah, just a big day.”

“You want talk?”

There was so much to talk about. The inevitability of Geno leaving. Callum and all his hopes and dreams. The fear that the season was slipping through their fingers and that even a playoff spot might be too much to ask of them.

“No, I really don’t. Take me to bed, Geno.”

“Yes,” Geno said, leaning down to kiss his forehead gently. “Always. Whenever you’re need, I do.”

Sid smiled and let himself relax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOOM! Up to date. Bet nobody was expecting me to drop 17k of this fic on a random Friday T_T Just think how cute it would have been if I'd managed to write those post-Christmas chapters and post them on the dates they're meant to be. Ah well, life happens. Also, how did this get to be so long? I'm little bit die. I was going to post them over the next few days but I'm super busy with ice hockey this weekend, going to see Hull Pirates tomorrow and then the Manchester Storm on Sunday so you get it all now! 
> 
> Also, any of you who are reading this in real time and kind of curious about UK hockey, there's game on Saturday night (26th January 2019) between the Nottingham Panthers and the Cardiff Devils streaming free on youtube. I'll be in Hull at the time so give it a watch for me. Maybe I can have it on my phone so I can watch some hockey while I watch my hockey. You can get the details on the Panthers twitter account, @PanthersIHC. Go watch my stupid Panther boys get murdered unless they're about to have a complete reversal of fortune. (Yes, this IRL did fire their coach last week. It did me a shock. I hope they're having fun. I hope someone's hugging them.) 
> 
> Thank you very much to my beta, ghost-toast on tumblr, who has put in a lot of time to try to make this 17k of words I dumped on them readable.


	24. Sunday 27th January 2019

Sunday 27th January 2019

Sid got the idea while he was brushing his teeth and just stood there for a few minutes, smiling at himself in the bathroom mirror. They’d had another loss the night before, and they were facing off against the Panthers that afternoon who were still flying high from their win against Cardiff the night before. Sid was planning to watch the recording of the webcast that morning to get an idea of the style of play they were going to be up against, but first he needed to set his plan into motion.

Geno was still in bed, covers yanked up over his head. Sid would normally ignore him until he was more awake but today he slid over to the bed and pulled back the blanket, getting back in. Geno shifted a little, rolling slightly towards Sid and Sid reached for him, running a light hand over Geno’s side.

Geno actually reacted to that which was good. If he’d really been asleep it would have been a pain to wake him up.

“Hey,” Sid said, scooting a little closer. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” Geno’s accent was always thicker before he got some coffee into his system. “Why you so awake.”

“Why are you so sleepy? We went to bed at the same time.”

Geno emerged from the blankets then, tussled hair first, to glare at Sid. Sid laughed and leant in to kiss him. He’d meant to make it light and playful but Geno had this was of taking hold of a kiss and turning it into just what he wanted. Sid didn’t exactly mind when Geno deepened the kiss, pulling him in and running those big, competent hands over his skin.

But he had a plan to set in motion, then he had a game to watch and a game of his own to prep for.

He pulled back and looked down at Geno who was watching him with interest. He seemed much more interested in the idea of morning sex than Sid was and, well, Sid sometimes indulged him. Just not today.

“I want to make a dare with you.”

Geno raised an eyebrow. “Sidney Crosby make dare? Think you’re too sensible for this.”

“No, I’m just too sensible to make dares with Callum about eating things that shouldn’t be eaten.”

“No fun,” Geno said, sticking out his tongue. “Okay, what is dare?”

“Okay,” Sid said. “You know we’ve talked about, like, doing more shit in bed. Like, sucking dick and stuff.”

“Yes,” Geno said, obviously interested now. His hand, which had been laying loosely on Sid’s side, found his hip and curled there with intent, his thumb stroking Sid’s skin. “I’m remember.”

“Well, I was thinking, we should make it a dare.”

“A dare?”

“Yes. When you score a goal, I’ll suck your dick.”

“Not really dare,” Geno said, his eyes trained on Sid’s lips. “More like you’re give me reward.”

“Sure. Only I’m not going to suck your dick until you score that goal so, you know, it’s really up to you. You can go out there and score tonight or...”

“Make very tempt,” Geno said, his voice low. He reached over then and swiped his thumb over Sid’s lips, watching intently. Sid knew he’d been thinking about this for a while which he found kind of amazing. It had been a month already and he still woke up some days convinced he’d dreamed the entire thing and Geno didn’t want him, could never want him.

Geno leant across the bed and moved his thumb so he could kiss Sid. It was a filthy, open mouthed kiss and he slid his hand into the curls at the back of Sid’s head to hold him in place as he did it. When he pulled back, Sid tried to follow him but the hand in his hair kept him where he was.

“Okay. I’m score goal, you give me big sexy reward.”

“Yeah,” Sid agreed. His plan was going to work perfectly.

***

“Look, forget about the plan. I’ll blow you if you just stop taking stupid fucking penalties and stay out of the penalty box.”

“Don’t want to forget,” Geno growled. He obviously wanted to pace, but they were jammed in the player toilet together and there wasn’t exactly a lot of space. “Want to score stupid goal.”

“I know you do,” Sid reached out and grabbed Geno’s elbow. He was a fucking idiot. He’d wanted to motivate him, and maybe he had for the first period. Geno had been shooting more, looking more confident with every passing moment. He’d forced Garnett to make a few really impressive saves for the Panthers, and really put on the pressure.

The problem was, Garnett had made a few really good saves for the Panthers and pucks that should have found the back of the net had somehow ended up in his glove.

“Want score goal, want win game.”

“And you think looking for fights and taking penalties is going to get you there?”

“Maybe? What we’re do not work.”

“Geno, I get that you’re frustrated...”

“No,” Geno interrupt. “Team crap but you’re still do good, score goal. Everyone love Sid still. Nobody love me.”

Sid was surprised how much work it was to bite back a declaration of love. The feelings that surged up in him when Geno was particularly wonderful or caring were, well, but he certainly wasn’t about to blurt out a confession in an ice rink bathroom when they were 2-0 down.

“You’re an important part of this team. Everyone knows that.”

“I’m not score.”

Sid had been a fucking idiot to think that promising a blow job was going to be all the motivation Geno needed to get over this. He needed therapy or something.

“Look, just promise me you’ll stop looking for a fight. I’m definitely not sucking your dick if you’ve got, like, a swollen eye.”

“Not about dick.”

“I know it isn’t,” Sid agreed. He reached out and grabbed Geno’s hands and for a second he was sure Geno was going to pull away but instead he seemed to deflate, crowding closer and dropping his forehead onto Sid’s head. “I just thought it might help. I just want a goal for you, you know. You’re playing so good out there, you deserve it.”

“If I’m deserve, I get.”

“You know that’s not how this game works. You’re trying your best, we can all see that, but Garnett’s apparently hot tonight.”

“Fans not see I’m do best. Just see I’m miss.”

“Well, fuck them.” Sid let go of Geno’s hands and reached out to wrap his arms around Geno instead. Geno slumped into him more, arms coming around Sid to hold him close. “I see you. I see your plays, all the goals that should have gone in. I’m proud of you.”

Geno didn’t say anything to that, just squeezed him tighter, and Sid let himself stand there for a second and just enjoy the feel of Geno so close.

Damnit but he really wanted Geno to get that goal. He wished he could give up one of his own. Not that he’d had much more luck against Garnett but...

Geno pulled back. He looked calmer now, less like he was about to skate up to a Panthers D-man and ask him if he’d like a punch in the face. He brought his hands up to cup Sid’s face then leant in and kissed him tenderly. Sid sighed into the kiss, closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the contact. When Geno pulled back he stood there for a second, eyes closed, face cradled in Geno’s hands.

“Thank you, Sid,” Geno said, his voice soft. “I’m not... I’m go out there, not fight. I promise.”

“Good. And whatever happens, I’m proud of you, okay?”

“Yes,” Geno nodded. “Okay. We’re go now, kick ass.”

Sid laughed then nodded. “Yeah, let’s go kick some ass.”

***

There were forty seconds left on the clock and they were on the powerplay.

They’d clawed back both goals, just. Callum had scored the first one off a pass from Geno. The Panthers defence had obviously expected Geno to take the shot, he’d been grabbing any chance all afternoon, and had positioned themselves for that then when he’d passed it to Callum they hadn’t been able to move quickly enough to stop him burying the puck.

The second had come off Sid’s stick. It had been a messy scramble of a goal and it’d been sent to review for goaltender interference but the call had gone Sid’s way.

Sid took the faceoff. He squared up, watched the puck, and the second it hit the ice he hooked it with his stick, sending it flying behind him to where Callum was waiting. It was a drill they’d run a million times. Callum shot off down the wing, the puck on his stick to carry them into the Panthers’ zone, the rest of the power play unit running after him. Sid hurtled down past the circle on his left just in time to snag the puck as it rebounded of Garnett’s pads. He turned and Geno was there in the crease, watching, stick down. Sid sent him the puck, watched as he swung his stick and hit it, sending it right through Garnett’s legs and into the back of the goal.

The goal horn sounded. The crowd screamed. Sid screamed. He threw himself forward and Geno caught him, spinning him around. He looked shocked, his eyes wide and a ridiculous grin plastered on his face and for a second it was just them.

Then Callum was crashing into them and the rest of the line after that, and there were helmet taps and laughs and glares from the Panthers that Sid ignored because Geno had scored. He’d broken his slump.

Damn but Sid was going to suck Geno’s dick that night.

***

“You see, goalie not even expect,” Geno said. He was almost vibrating with energy in the middle of Sid’s living room. They were meant to just be getting changed and heading out again to meet the team for celebratory drinks and, for once, Sid didn’t want to miss that so he was going to have to be fast.

“I saw, take off your pants.”

“Sid?” Geno looked scandalised.

“What, you hardly even wear pants over here anymore. Take them off, I want to suck your dick.”

“Now?” Geno was apparently completely shocked by this prospect.

“Well, when we get in tonight I’m going to be way too tired and I have class tomorrow so I probably shouldn’t even be going out but, well, I am. So yeah, I need to do it now or there might not be time.”

Geno’s hands went to his pants and he fumbled with them for a second before hesitating. He looked up at Sid and bit his lip.

“Know we don’t need to do tonight, right? I’m know I’m score goal and you say but...”

“I know,” Sid said. He walked over and grabbed Geno’s pants himself, unfastening them and sliding them down off Geno’s hips. “Do you not want your dick sucked?”

“No, I’m want,” Geno insisted, though he didn’t sound entirely sure. “Is just... I’m think maybe for first time should be more romance?”

Sid stilled then. He looked down at Geno’s dick, half hard in his underwear. God, he wanted to suck it. It had been all he could thing about once they’d got back to the locker room. Geno had been glorious, laughing and joking and generally being the life of the room, and Sid had wanted to drag him back to that disgusting locker stall and get down in his knees right then and there.

“Do you want more romance?”

Geno shrugged. “Should have.”

“I mean, if you want, we will. I just really, really want to suck you.”

“Sid...”

“I’ve been thinking about it, like, pretty much since you scored that goal. That was really fucking hot, Geno.”

“Yeah?” Geno said, relaxing a little. “Should have known, hockey get Sidney Crosby horny.”

“Well, yeah. But you, too. You were so happy and proud and I just... I want that for you all the time. I mean, you must know that I think you’re always kind of awesome but when you win... fuck. Please, Geno. I just really want to suck you. I want to let you know just how fucking awesome you are.”

Geno only hesitated for a fraction of a second longer before grabbing his pants and shoving them as far down his legs as he could. Sid swallowed and then dropped do his knees right there in the middle of the carpet. He reached up and tenderly hooked Geno’s underwear over his dick, letting it stand free.

Geno was a big guy without it being ridiculous and Sid appreciated that. He liked all dicks, honestly, but Genos was pretty by all standards. Sid reached up and wrapped his hands around it, pumping Geno a few times then leaning forward and taking the head into his mouth.

The thing was, Sid really fucking loved giving head. He loved the feel of the dick on his tongue, the taste of, the smell of it. He loved the way it made the guy he was with lose his fucking mind, the noises they’d make, the little half thrusts they’d make into his mouth and they tried desperately to control themselves. He loved the meditative quality of it, too. The way his body fell into a rhythm, focused down on his lips and tongue and the fingers curled into his hair.

And Geno, of course was the perfect person to give an orgasm too. He was beautifully responsive, the noises he made rounded like they were being torn from him, guttural and low. He laced his fingers into Sid’s hair but didn’t try to move him or pull, just left them there as a point of connection, of reassurance. And his dick...

Sid lost himself for a while to the movement, the rhythm, the feelings. When Geno came, a moan and a tightening of his fingers in Sid’s hair the only warning, it was almost a surprise.

Sid swallowed, then pulled back and licked at his lips. He looked up to find Geno watching him. Geno looked fucking wrecked, lips bitten and pupils wide. When he saw Sid looking, he sank to his knees, took Sid’s face in his hands and kissed him, deep and filthy.

“Fuck, Sid,” he moaned, the words said right against Sid’s lips. “You’re so good. Where you learn?”

Sid laughed at that, delighted at how rough it sounded. “Oh, you know. Boys in locker rooms.”

“Fuck,” Geno said, and somehow it sounded appreciative. “Come on, I’m do you?”

Sid nodded, but Geno’s hands were already on his fly. He freed Sid’s dick, leaking already most of the way there, then jacked it slowly. They both watched, Sid squirming, panting, that intense feeling building up in him until it was too much and he came, grasping whatever part of Geno he could reach and gasping his name.

They lay there on the floor for a little while before Geno laughed.

“Get to get up, Sid. Got to go drinks.”

Fuck, they really did.

“I know. Just... one more minute.”

“Always,” Geno said, then turned to him and kissed him.

They spent more than a minute lying there on the floor and exchanging lazy kisses and, in the end, they were very late to the pub.


	25. Saturday 2nd February, 2019

Saturday 2nd February, 2019 

Sid had barely seen Geno all week, so when their Dundee hotel room closed behind them he all but flung himself into Geno’s arms. Geno seemed to be anticipating it because he was right there, arms tight around Sid, pulling him closer. They kissed like it’d been months, not days, and Sid really wished that hotel walls were thicker and he could throw Geno down on the bed and fuck him noisily and needily. 

As it was, they could hear teammates banging around in the corridors and had to make do with a few quick, desperate kisses. They needed to be back out and on their way to the rink anyway. 

“Been so long,” Geno groaned, his fingers digging into the flesh of Sid’s hips. “Why I’m even invite him?” 

“Because he’s your friend and you care about him. But why did you invite him for so long?” 

“Too long. Longest. Next time, I’m say only visit for few days. Or at least get hotel room then he’s not know where I’m sleep.” 

“That’s a good plan.” Sid slid his hands up under the old Russian hockey sweater Geno was wearing. He wanted to fuck him. He wanted to drag him into bed and not ever let him out again. “We’ve got to get to the game.” 

“I think we’re not go. Think we’re stop here instead.” 

“Oh yeah, and what are you going to do if we stop here?” 

“Can think of something,” Geno said, his hand snaking down to cup Sid’s ass. God, Sid wanted to actually follow through on this talk. To pull Geno back into the bed and pretend that they didn’t have any responsibilities other than giving each other as many orgasms as they could. Instead he pulled away a little, putting some space between them. Geno pouted but let him go. 

“Tonight. After the game.” 

“No.” Geno shook his head. “Aleksei staying in Scotland, not follow us back. Will want to have last drinks tonight before he’s go.” 

“That’s fine. I’ll just wait up for you.” 

“Don’t have to, Sid.” 

“No, but I’m going to. I missed you.” 

Geno smiled at that, pleased, as though there’d been some kind of doubt in his mind that Sid had been missing him. Sid couldn’t let him go around thinking things like that so leant forward and kissed him one last time, putting as much of his longing and need into it as he could. It’d only been a few days but it’d still been too long. 

Then there was a knock on the door and yelling and Sid really did have to step back and straighten his clothes. 

“After the game tonight, yeah?” 

“Yes.” 

***

It had been a while since they’d had a comfortable win and Sid had forgotten how good it felt. They’re gone ahead in the first and, though the Stars had clawed a couple back as the game went on, they never managed to catch up. The guys were feeling good after, happy and loose. A few headed out, a few headed to the hotel bar. Sid followed the hotel bar contingent and tried not to think about Geno walking away, heading out of the hotel. He’d be back soon and they’d be able to shut the door and be alone together. 

Until then, he had to distract himself. The hotel bar was pretty quiet. There were a few people other than the boys but not many, which was good as it meant fewer people for them to disturb. He made his way over to the bar, ordered a beer, and settled in on a stool. 

It didn’t take long for Callum to appear beside him. 

“Hey,” he said, fidgeting. “Can I....” 

Sid gestured at the next stool and Callum hopped up on it quickly. “You want a drink?” 

“Sure,” Callum said, spinning a little on his seat to face the bar. The bartender was only halfway through pouring Sid’s pint so it was easy enough to get him to add one for Callum too. Callum sat there with it in his hands, fidgeting and turning it from side to side. 

“Good game tonight.” 

“Yeah,” Callum said, not looking up. Normally he’d take that and run, he was the kind of guy who could chat about every aspect of a game and Sid appreciated that in him but it was obvious that tonight he had something else on his mind. 

“So, anything you want to tell me?” 

“I… yeah. I got a phone call today. From Pete Russell.” 

Sid racked his brain for a second, trying to place the name. “He’s head coach at Glasgow, right? You’re not jumping ship are you?” 

“No,” Callum blushed. “He’s also head coach for team GB.” 

Sid froze a second. Team GB. That was… “What did he say?” 

“They want me in Coventry next week. I’d given up when I hadn’t heard already, they’re playing their first exhibition match then and, I mean, going to the match doesn’t mean I’m going to make the team and get to go and play against Canada this summer or whatever but…” 

“But it’s the first step,” Sid said, reaching across the gap to grab Callum’s shoulder and squeeze. “That’s awesome. I’m proud of you.” 

Callum beamed, his entire face lighting up as though he’d never had a compliment before and Sid had just given him something wonderful. Sid was beginning to suspect that might not be that far from the truth, in that he wasn’t entirely convinced Callum’s parents paid him a lot of attention. 

“I haven’t told anyone else yet. It all feels, I don’t know… I keep checking the caller ID in my phone to see if he really called and he did so…” 

“You deserve this,” Sid said. “You’ve been working hard and you’ve got a lot of talent.” 

“Not enough talent to beat Canada.” 

“Well, no,” Sid shrugged. “Probably not. But you’re going to represent your country, eh. Even if it’s only in a few friendlies.” Sid used to dream about getting that call, getting to represent his country. He’d let it go a long time ago. Why would anyone ever call him when he’d barely made the NHL. But Callum, for him it was a dream he could reach. Representing his country. Getting to be on the ice with some of the best hockey players in the world. “You should tell the other guys. They’re going to be really proud of you.” 

“You think so? I mean, some of them are brits and they’ve not been called up and… they won’t be jealous?” 

Sid snorted. “If they are, send them to talk to me. They’ll be happy for you, kid. This is a big deal.” 

“Yeah, it kind of is,” Callum said, smile spreading across his lips. “Yeah. Let’s tell them. Come over with me?” 

“Of course,” Sid said, grabbing his drink. So much for an early night. 

***

It was late when Sid finally got back to his room, it was later when Geno finally stumbled through the door. This room was equipped with a double bed and a fold out sofa bed. They hadn’t even bothered touching the sofa bed, obviously, and Sid pulled back the covers as Geno pottered around in the bathroom. When he finally climbed under the covers he smelt of vodka and sweat and Sid would have wanted to rub himself all over him if he wasn’t so fucking tired. 

“Sorry so late,” Geno whispered then leant in to press a soft kiss to the corner of Sid’s mouth. “I’m lose track of time.” 

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re here now.” 

“Make it up for you tomorrow. I’m make big romance, lots of candles, slow sex.” 

“Sounds nice,” Sid mumbled, rolling closer. Geno was, as always, more than happy to wrap his arms around Sid and Sid settled into the embrace. He’d definitely missed being held while he slept which was weird and new but, then, so many things with Geno felt new. In a good way, mostly. “Did you have fun, at least?” 

There was a pause then. Sid waited, but the silence stretched. He pulled back at little to find Geno watching him, biting his lip. “What?” 

“Have really big talk with Aleksei. You know he works for hockey team?” 

“I didn’t know that.” Sid frowned. It felt like that kind of thing that should have come up. 

“Yes. He said he’s like how I’m play. Going to talk to his boss, maybe get me tryout in summer. Maybe I’m get to play hockey next year in Russia.” 

“Oh,” Sid said. Geno was watching him, clearly expecting something more, but Sid didn’t know what else to say. He’d known, logically, that Geno was going to go back at the end of the year. His contract was only for the season and he had no reason to stay. 

He just hadn’t really thought about it. 

He couldn’t think about it now, not really. The idea of it seemed so big. 

“You mad?” 

“Why would I be mad?” 

Geno shrugged. “Think maybe you’re not want to do this, know I’m maybe leave. Think maybe I’m not tell you but…” 

“You love Russia,” Sid said, slowly. “You should go back there if you can.” 

“Do love Russia,” Geno agreed. His hand trailed gently over Sid’s side as he said it. “We okay?” 

“Of course we’re okay. I… I knew you were going to go. Even if this didn’t happen. I just… let’s just not talk about it, okay?” 

“Sid…” 

“Nothing in hockey ever lasts long enough. You get traded or moved around or your minutes get cut or your friends get traded. I’ve moved so many times, played so many places, I know none of this is forever. But it’s good right now, right? It is?” 

“Yes,” Geno agreed, his hand stopping its slow, reassuring movements to grip Sid’s side. “Is good.” 

“So let’s just enjoy it. Let’s not think about it ending, let’s enjoy it.” 

Geno made a face and Sid was sure he was going to argue but then the fight visibly went out of him and he leant forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Sid’s lips. Sid reached over and he didn’t mean to grab, just to touch, but he ended up grabbing all the same, pulling Geno hard against him until Geno was pressing against him, gasping into his mouth. 

He didn’t want to think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I beta read this myself using a text to speech thing to try to catch typos and the text to speech thing kept pronouncing Geno as Jen-o so if I've missed any typos and left them in, it's Jen-o's fault.


	26. Saturday 9th February 2019

Saturday 9th February 2019 

“Do you want a drink or…?” 

“No,” Geno said. He was sprawled out on Sid’s couch, his feet kicked up on the coffee table, eyes closed. Fife games were always stupidly hard. They’d managed to push it to overtime and, with their win against the Blaze the night before, they were only one spot out of the playoffs. “Just want sleep.” 

“That’s fair. Just let me get some water.” 

Geno nodded and Sid wandered through to the kitchen. They had to be up in the morning for skate before heading down to Milton Keynes to face the lightning. He should read on the bus, he had a seminar on Monday, but he knew how that was actually going to turn out. Maybe he could get Geno to teach Callum some card games or something and they’d both leave him alone. 

He grabbed a glass of water and was filling it when he heard a knock at the door. He paused for a second, waiting. Sometimes kids came past and hammered on every door in the street. But no, the knocking came again. 

Geno was still on the couch but he’d pulled himself up a little and turned to look at the door. Sid walked past him, diverting a little to trail fingers through his hair. Geno shot him a mutinous look at that but didn’t say anything. 

Paul was on the doorstep. 

“What’s wrong?” Sid asked, the words falling out before his brain quite caught up with what he was seeing. Paul looked like he’d been crying. He wasn’t wearing a sweater or anything, even though the wind was bitter. He looked a mess. Sid stepped back quickly and hustled him inside. “You look cold. Do you need a drink?” 

“I… no,” Paul said. He shuffled in place there while Sid shut the door. Sid looked over and realised that Paul was looking at Geno. He was looking at him like he was a little lost, like he didn’t know what to do. He shuffled half a step backwards and Sid was almost afraid he was going to have to grab the kid to stop him running out into the night before he seemed to make up his mind. “My dad’s thrown me out.” 

“Why?” Geno asked, already half way out of his seat, presumably to go fight whatever had hurt Paul. 

“Because I’m gay.” 

There was a pause then. He said it with such conviction, chin pointed up like he was challenging Geno to say something about it. Geno paused, weighing his options, then finished unfolding himself from the sofa. He moved around it and approached Paul cautiously then, once in range, reached out and pulled Paul into his arms. The kid was stiff for a second, he probably didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t like he and Geno were close. Then little by little he crumpled. His shoulders dropped, his hand came up to tangle in Geno’s t-shirt, he tilted his head forward to hide his face but Sid was sure by the little hiccups he was making that he was crying and trying desperately to hide it. 

“Shouldn’t have done that,” Geno said, his voice so sure. “Was shitty thing to do.” 

“Yeah,” Sid agreed. He shifted about for a second, considering his options, before stepping forward and tentatively patting Paul on the back. He sniffled but seemed to relax a little against Geno. 

“I just… he was going on about that tweet, you know?” 

Sid didn’t know. He looked over at Geno and saw understanding on his face. Of course, Geno actually engaged with social media. He raised an eyebrow and Geno rolled his eyes at him. 

“Come on,” he said, stepping back a little. “Let’s sit. Sid no good at internet, have to explain for him.” 

“Oh sure,” Paul said, pulling back. His eyes were puffy and red, more so than before even, but he didn’t seem to be actively crying any more. Sid considered being a bit of a shit for a minute and arguing that he did know things about the internet. He knew plenty. But it was true that he’d missed whatever on twitter had apparently made Paul end up on his doorstep in tears. 

They moved to sit down. Sid made himself take the chair. He probably couldn’t be trusted on the couch with Geno when they had guests over. Paul ignored them for a second, playing with the hem of his t-shirt, then with a sigh he finally started to talk. 

“It was that stupid homophobic tweet. Something about the Clan wanting to have a pride night, and this guy basically replied like gays don’t have any place in sport and a load of people shot him down and it felt good, yeah. Like, maybe people are changing and it wouldn’t be too much of a big deal if I was out, you know?” 

“Sounds nice,” Sid said. Geno just grunted. At Paul’s age, Sid hadn’t even dared to daydream about coming out some day. 

“Yeah. Anyway, we were on the way home from the game and normally my dad’s pretty, like, I know he can turn our computer on but I think he gets kind of lost after that. Anyway, one of his mate’s at the game must have shown him this tweet because he ranted, like, all the way back home about how this homophobic asshole was right and gays don’t have a place in the game and he just went on and on, you know.” 

Sid nodded. He’d been privy to enough homophobic rants in his time and he had a pretty good idea where this was going. Paul was crouched over, his shoulders up around his ears. 

“So, you came out to him?" 

“It was stupid. And, like, the worst time to do it. I mean, first I just said that maybe the people who were, like, standing up to this guy, maybe they had a point. And he laughed at me. He said I should know best and… I’m not gonna repeat it, it was vile. Be he said no gay belonged in the locker room and if he met a gay guy in there he’d punch him and somehow, I know it was stupid but I was so mad…” 

“I’m understand,” Geno said. “Sometimes when you’re get mad, you're not make good decision.” 

“Yeah,” Paul grumbled. “We were still in the car. He stopped and told me to get out and not to bother coming home and… I’d thought my mum might argue with him. I mean, I know what he’s like but I thought my mum…” 

There was a definite waver in his voice then but before Sid could get himself out of the chair Geno was there, pulling Paul close and hugging him. The kid’s shoulders were shaking again and it was all such a ridiculous mess. 

Sid got up anyway and went into the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of water then stood for a second, pressing his forehead to the wall and counting his breaths. It wouldn’t help anyone if he drove across town and beat Paul’s dad’s ass, he had to remember that. 

When he came back into the living room, Paul was sat up again. He looked even more red eyed, even more tired. He took the water Sid offered him with a little smile and god damnit but he was only a kid. Sure, he wasn’t that young anymore but Sid remembered being his age, remembered trying to act like he was an adult and like being away from his family and home didn’t scare him. At least that was a decision he’d made, heading out into the world on his own. Paul…

Sid really wanted to punch something. 

“Family worst,” Geno said, patting Paul on his shoulder. “You stay here for now.” 

Paul laughed. “Should you be offering out Sid’s couch.” 

Sid watched the second Geno realised that, if Paul was sleeping here, he wasn’t. Sid was pretty sure that Geno wasn’t about to out himself to some kid from Liverpool. 

“Of course you can stay. As long as you need to. We can look things up in the morning, there has to be help out there for you. I mean, you can’t be the first kid in this city to get thrown out by a homophobic family.” 

Paul nodded, but he was back to not meeting anyone’s eye and twirling his phone in his fingers. 

Sid stood, then met Geno’s eye and headed back to the kitchen. A second later Geno followed him and quietly shut the door behind them. He came right to Sid and wrapped his arms around him, fingers digging in deep enough to bruise. Sid let himself relax into the embrace a little, closing his eyes and, just for a second, leaning on Geno. 

He was really going to miss this if Paul ended up staying. But he was a kid, he needed help. Sid couldn’t send him away. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, making sure he kept his voice low so it wouldn’t carry though the cheap wood door. “He knows I’m gay, I ran into him in a club a while back. He must have thought I was safe to come to.” 

“Don’t say sorry,” Geno said. “Is good that he trust you. Good that he has you.” 

“Yeah,” Sid agreed. “I just… maybe you should go?” 

“I’m help.” 

“I know you want to, but there are some things I need to talk to Paul about and I don’t think he’ll talk if he thinks you’re straight and I don’t think you’re about to come out to him so…” 

Geno winced then sagged a little so Sid was probably right there. 

“Go. I know where you are if I need you. It’ll be okay.” 

“Okay,” Geno grumbled. He squeezed Sid one last time, pressing them close together, and Sid was going to miss him that night. Not just the sex either, he was going to miss the feel of Geno in bed with him. The weight of Geno on top of him, the overwhelming physicality of him. 

Then Geno was stepping back. Sid listened as he went out and said goodbye to Paul, that he’d come back later if Paul needed him, then the door to the flat opened and shut. Sid took a deep breath and went out. 

Paul was where he’d been left, on the couch looking dejected. Sid went and sat next to him this time. He was still curling his phone between his fingers. 

“Hey,” Sid said, trying to keep his voice soft. “You know, you can stay here as long as you want to. You’re welcome here. But… I think maybe there’s somewhere else you’d rather be. Someone else you’d rather be with.” 

The way Paul turned red let Sid know he’d been right about that one. 

“I don’t…” 

“Callum told me about you two.” Paul definitely relaxed a little at that. It seemed like Callum had forgotten to tell him that he’d let Sid in on their secret. “Why don’t you call him?” 

“I don’t know,” Paul said. “I guess… it’s a lot, you know.” 

“I know. But isn’t that all the more reason to tell him? Don’t you want him to help you with this?” 

“Yeah, of course.” There was no hesitation there and that was a pretty good sign. Sid had been starting to wonder. “But, like, we’ve only been together for a bit over a month and I really like him. Like, I’ve had a crush for a while and now… I don’t want to scare him off. What if I tell him and it’s all too much for him and he doesn’t want to know.” 

“I mean, that might happen.” Sid thought of the way Callum had looked when he’d talked about Paul being his boyfriend, he’d certainly not count a rejection as the most likely follow up to that kind of look. “You’ve got to trust him, though. That’s how you build relationships.” 

“I don’t know. I just…” 

“Are you planning to hide this from him?” 

“No.” 

“Then he’s going to find out eventually. If you tell him now, maybe he’ll be an asshole and not want to talk to you, or maybe he’ll head right over here to be with you.” 

“I just… even if I tell him, he can’t help. He’s not out to his parents…” 

“Wouldn’t him just being here help.” 

Paul hesitated for a second, then he finally stopped spinning his phone and opened it. He found Callum in his phone book and dialed and Sid excused himself, heading back into the kitchen. Once there, he got himself a bottle of water and leant on the counter. He could hear Geno moving around above, probably making the cup of tea he liked to drink before bed. He wished he could be up there. He wished he could have held Geno’s hand while he talked to Paul, promised him that it would get better, that it was all worth it. 

But what he did have was Geno’s trust. He’d said he was going to take care of it and Geno had believed him. He trusted him. That meant a lot. 

The kitchen door opened and Paul came in, face blotchy again and Sid almost panicked before he noticed the hint of a smile. “He’s on his way.” 

“Great,” Sid said. He reached out and let Paul hustle closer, hugging him tight. “I’m glad for you.” 

“Yeah,” Paul sighed. He only stayed there hugging Sid for a second before pulling away but he looked a little better when he did. Still not good but better, as though talking to Callum had helped in a way nothing Geno and Sid had said and done could have. 

Sid knew that feeling. He glanced up at the ceiling and tried to ignore the longing in his gut. 

They went back out to the lounge and put the TV on until Callum arrived. He turned up not long after, eyes wide, and pulled Paul straight into his arms like he thought they were in a romance movie. Sid went to his bedroom, looked at the empty bed, then went back out and told them he was giving them their privacy for the night and he’d sleep on Geno’s couch. Neither of them questioned it, they just stumbled together into Sid’s room and sid made a note to change the sheets as he let himself out. 

Geno was already a warm lump under the covers but he grunted and moved to make space when Sid crawled in next to him. 

“Paul go?” 

“No, his boyfriend’s here. I let them sleep down there and I told them I was going to crash on your couch to give them space.” 

“Sneaky,” Geno said, his arms finding their way around Sid like they always did. “But you’re let stranger sleep in house? Not like Sid.” 

“Not a stranger.” Shit. “I mean, I guess you’re going to find out in the morning anyway but it’s Callum. Paul’s boyfriend is Callum.” 

Geno hummed like this information was totally as expected and had no impact on him at all, then he pressed another kiss to the back of Sid’s neck. He relaxed, letting his eyes fall shut. 

“Rest now, Sid. Lots to do tomorrow. Rest now.” 

“Okay.” I love you. “Goodnight, Geno.” 

“Night, Sid.” 

Sid closed his eyes, pressed himself as close to Geno as he could, and tried to sleep.


	27. Saturday 16th February 2019

Saturday 16th February 2019

Sid woke to the sound of banging in his kitchen. He rolled over and checked his clock, it was still a little before the alarm was meant to go off so he didn’t know what the hell Geno was doing actually being awake. He pulled the blankets over his head, trying to drift back to sleep, then there was a crash and some soft russian cursing and he gave up. 

The kitchen was, surprisingly, not a complete disaster zone. Sure there were more things out than Sid would normally use but the disaster seemed to mostly be confined to an area near the stove where Geno was, apparently, making breakfast. 

Geno noticed him in the door and gave him a withering look. 

“Why you up? Go, get back in bed.” 

“Why?” Sid asked, trying to get a better look at what Geno was actually doing. “Are you making pancakes?” 

“I’m make you breakfast,” Geno said, shooing him away. “Big romance. Go get in bed, I’m bring soon.” 

Actually, that sounded kind of awesome. Sid grinned. He didn’t think he’d ever had a partner bring him breakfast in bed before. He walked across the room and stood on his tiptoes to press a kiss to Geno’s cheek. Geno blushed a little and looked altogether too pleased with himself for someone who hadn’t actually made a single successful pancake yet. 

“You sure you don’t want me to help? I’m awake now, after all.” 

“No, you go get back in bed, pretend is big surprise when I’m bring to you.” 

“Sure, whatever you say,” Sid said. He moved to go but Geno reached out, snagging his wrist and pulling him back in. He pressed Sid back against the counter then leant in and kissed him, long, deep and full of promises about what they were going to do later. Then he pulled back. 

“Okay, now you’re go.” 

“Yeah,” Sid said, grinning. “Don’t be too long though.” 

“I'm promise. Not keep you waiting.” 

***

Sid was cooling down from his workout when Callum wandered over. The kid nodded and started to do some stretches. Sid would have let himself settle into companionable silence if Callum hadn’t kept glancing at him meaningfully. 

Sometimes being the Captain was hard work. 

“Hey,” Sid said, carefully. “How are things going? Is Paul settling in okay?” 

“Oh yeah. He’s been great.” When Sid had dragged himself downstairs after the night Paul had come out to his family he’d found the sheets in the washing machine and the pair of them gone, probably too embarrassed to face him. They’d phoned later to tell him they’d gone to Callum’s to come out to his parents, who had been fine, and they were living there now, though admittedly in different bedrooms. 

They’d been round through the week for chinese. Geno had chirped them about their relationship and they’d both seemed happy. Blushing and leaning into each other and giggling like a couple of kids. It had been cute. 

It had made him ache. 

“Your parents are okay?” 

“Yeah. I mean, I think they’re kind of weirded out. Like they don’t really know what to do with us. But they’re cool. They’re really trying hard to make Paul feel at home, you know.” 

“That’s awesome. Is he coming to the game tonight?” 

“I don’t know. I mean, I guess I want him to but he’s kind of afraid of seeing his dad.” 

“I get that,” Sid said. It’d still be raw, obviously, being rejected by his dad like that. But, if anyone was going to be banned from the rink, it should be the dad. Paul hadn’t done anything wrong. 

“I just, it’s a lot, you know. I really like him, Sid. Like, he’s just really nice and good and I don’t know why he likes me.” 

“Hey, there are plenty of reasons to like you.” 

Callum snorted but he didn’t fight about that any more. “He’s just really fucking hurting right now and I want to help but it’s tough, you know. He wants to come to the game but he’s worried about seeing his dad and he’s worried about outing me and he just sits in his room. Like, he went out to college but then he just hides. I don’t want him to feel like he has to hide.” 

Sid straightened up out of his stretch. He stood there for a second, then gave in to his instincts and went over to Callum, pulling him up then hugging him tightly. Callum relaxed right into him, hugging him back. 

“You’re a good kid, a good boyfriend. He’s lucky to have you.” 

“I don’t feel it. I’ve been trying to talk to him, to make him feel welcome, but nothing seems to be helping.” 

“You’re thinking about his needs, that’s important. Even if you can’t help him, and you might not be able to, at least you’re thinking about the kind of thing that could help him.” 

“Yeah,” Callum sighed. “I just want him to be happy, you know.” 

“I know. Hey, if you guys need some space, you know you can always come round mine, right? You or Paul.” 

“Yeah, you’re awesome. It’s just a lot. And, like, the things I can do to help… they’re a lot too. But I’ve been thinking about it, you know?” 

“About what?” Sid asked, frowning. 

“About coming out.” 

Coming out. 

“I… wait, did I miss a step? How did we get to coming out?” 

Callum pulled back a little and Sid let him go. He looked surprisingly calm and together. “That’s kind of the main thing Paul’s stressing himself out about at the moment, that he’s going to out me. That the guys are going to work out what’s going on. I mean, I’m not thinking about coming out to the entire world or getting them to put it up on twitter or whatever. I just want to tell the guys.” 

Just telling the guys. As though that was no big deal. As though that didn’t practically guarantee they’d tell their significant others and they’d tell their friends and soon everyone would know. Sid had always done his best to keep his sex life as far away from the team as he could but even he’d had times when it had ended up more as an open secret because nobody could keep their mouths shut. 

But shit, just coming out. Just standing up in the room and saying it and not caring. 

“Are you sure about this? Are you going to be ready if the guys are dicks about it.” 

“Do you think the guys’ll be dicks about it?” 

God, he hoped not. 

“I mean, they might. And if they do, how are you going to cope with that? You were freaking out before christmas because you thought you might lose ice hockey and now you’re thinking of coming out for, like, a relationship that’s less than two months old?” 

“I mean,” Callum was looking sheepish and, hell, maybe Sid should be being more supportive but every slur he’d ever had shouted at him on the ice was rattling around in his head and that was without them actually knowing he was gay. 

“I just, you’ve gotta be really sure about this, Callum. You can’t take it back. Maybe you should give it some time.” 

“But, like, I’m not going to stop being gay,” Callum said, slowly. “And, like, I thought a lot about things over christmas. About ice hockey and, you know, how it’s not always going to be here. And, like, the club doesn’t pay me very much and I know I’m not, like, a genius or anything but I’ve been looking at, like, careers and things and I think, next year, I’m going to train as a plumber. Like, I’m still going to play hockey, I’m always going to want to play hockey, but it’s not healthy for it to be the only thing I’ve got, right?” 

“Right,” Sid agreed, his throat dry. He had things outside hockey. He had his family. He had Geno. 

“So, like, sooner or later I’m going to come out because, even if things with Paul get super messed up, I’m still gay. And I’ve got a backup plan if everyone’s super shitty to me when I come out, I guess. Though that’d suck so much. But if they’re only nice to me while they think I’m straight, are they really, like, my friends? And, I don’t know, I just want to do this. I’m always so shit at secrets and I want to be happy and I want Paul to be happy, you know.” 

“I know,” Sid said, chest aching. He knew so well. “If you do this, you know I’m going to stand behind you, right? I think you’re a little crazy, but I’ll be there for you.” 

“I know you will,” Callum said, smiling. “You always are. You’re an awesome Captain, an awesome friend.” 

“Thanks,” Sid said. He wasn’t, not really. He was a coward. A liar. He’d spent his entire life lying and hiding for ice hockey. 

Had it ever been worth it? 

He glanced over at the shower area and Geno was stood in the doorway, watching them silently. Geno wouldn’t ever come out. Even if he wanted to, even if he wanted to be with Sid, he’d never be able to. Not with Russia hanging over them. And that was fine. 

Sid was used to not really getting what he wanted. He was used to putting others needs first. 

Callum was hugging him again and he made himself focus on that. This wasn’t about him, not even a little bit. 

When he looked up again, Geno had gone. 

***

When he finally got out of the gym, Geno was waiting by the car. He didn’t say anything, just ducked his head and waited as Sid unlocked the car and they both climbed in. 

The drive home was torturous. Geno stared at his phone the entire way and Sid just wanted to shake him. It wouldn’t make any difference, with Geno the best thing to do was to give him his space and let him come to you. 

He’d half expected Geno to split off when they got in but he didn’t, trailing Sid into his apartment and closing the door behind himself then leaning back again it and heaving a great sigh. Sid raised an eyebrow and quietly waited. It didn’t take Geno long to crack. 

“You talk him out of it?” 

“No, G. I didn’t.” Geno made a wounded little noise. 

“Why, Sid? Is bad idea, you’re know is bad idea. He’s just kid…” 

“I mean, yeah, in a lot of ways,” Sid agreed. “But he is actually an adult, like legally, and, you know, I wonder if he’s really that wrong.” 

“Sid…” 

“I’ve given up so much for my entire life to play hockey, and I love hockey. I just… sometimes I wonder if I wouldn’t have loved the things I’ve missed out on just as much.” 

“Sid…” 

“And I know I couldn’t have come out, that I can’t. That you can’t. But he’s young and things are changing. People are changing. Maybe it won’t be so bad for him.” 

“Maybe will.” 

“Yeah,” Sid agreed. “But he’s an adult, there’s nothing we can do to stop him. All we can do is support him.” 

Geno nodded, then reached out and it was the easiest thing for Sid to step into his arms, to lay his head on Geno’s shoulder and close his eyes, to breath in the smell of him, so familiar now, and press up against him. 

And god, he loved this man. He’d never felt like this about anyone. The thing was, he got what Callum was saying because he and Geno hadn’t been together much longer but if Geno asked something of him and he could give it, if Geno really needed something, Sid’d give it to him. No questions asked. 

And he was going to lose him. 

But not now. For now he turned and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Geno’s jaw. For now he enjoyed the little desperate sound Geno made as he pulled him in closer, the way Geno’s hands moved over him, searching, needing. 

He might not have it forever, but he had it for the moment. 

***

That night, Callum stood up after coach had spoken to them, before the game, and told everyone he was gay. 

There were murmurs, awkward glances, that slowly resolved into congratulations, offers of support. Nick, who’d been quiet and withdrawn over the last few weeks, stood up and hugged Callum. Sid did too, promising him in front of everyone that the team had his back. 

The entire time he was hyper-aware of the way Geno wasn’t looking at him.


	28. Sunday 24th February 2019

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter contains an attempted suicide. I'll update the tags to reflect that. Nick takes more pills than he should. He recieves help in time and is fine but if it's going to distress you to read that then look after yourself. If you need to know anything else specifically before you read don't hesitate to contact me and I'll let you know. Sid and Geno are never in any danger and do not, at any point, contemplate harming themselves.

Sunday 24th February 2019

The locker room was bubbling. It had been a close run thing but the shootout had gone their way and a victory over the Panthers put them in eighth, just in a playoff place. It had felt good. They’d had a few unlucky bounces but the team felt like they were coming together and were behaving more and more like the team they’d been when they were actually winning every game. 

Sid was tired down to his bones but happy enough to sit back and watch the other guys celebrate around him. Geno was more or less holding court, Callum was telling the new kid a story about the date he went on that week, it was a good feeling. 

The only thing missing was Nick. 

“You good, Captain?” Sid glanced up. Eddy was lounging on the stall next to his, as good a person to ask as any. 

“Yeah, always. Don’t suppose you’ve heard anything from Nick?” 

“Not today,” he said, glancing over at Nick’s empty stall. Management hadn’t said anything, which was weird. It wasn’t like a guy had never been out before, there had been a vomiting bug just a few months back, but management had just said what was going on. 

“I hope it’s nothing serious.” 

“Hey, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Eddy said, leaning in to clap Sid on the shoulder. “Nothing to stress about, especially when you should be celebrating.” 

Sid snorted. “I’ll celebrate when we’ve actually made the playoffs.” 

“Yeah, I should hope so. But you’re coming out tonight, right? Callum’s bringing his boyfriend so I figured we’d all be going to, like, show solidarity and shit? Did you hear coach the other day, apparently the team are trying to work out if we can get some pride jerseys together and do a pride night before the end of the season.” 

“That’d be awesome,” Sid said. It really would be. The guys had been going out of their way all week to make sure Callum knew he still had the same place on the team. It had been really fucking heartening. Even the guys who were obviously actually a little bit uncomfortable with it had been doing their best and Sid kind of respected that, at least they were trying. Everyone was trying and, watching them, Sid couldn’t help but wonder if he’d sold all the teammates down the years who he’d just presumed would never understand short. 

“Yeah. So, pub?” 

“Definitely. I’m gonna just make sure everyone gets away safe.” 

“Sure,” Eddy laughed. “Always the Captain.” 

Sid shrugged because, yeah. He wasn’t going to apologise for taking his role seriously and didn’t think Eddy actually wanted him too. The guy wandered off, chatting to another group, and Sid focused on his rituals. He undressed, packed his things, then started a sweep of the locker room. Most of the guys had already gone but they’d left the normal amount of debris scattered around. There was someone else whose job it was to do this, of course, but Sid liked to feel like he was leaving the place neat. 

Geno stopped and bumped shoulders before leaving, checking that Sid was definitely going to the pub too and wasn’t just going to duck out, then hurrying off. He was doing his best not to be weird, Sid knew that, but hell, Sid was hyper-aware of how they looked to others as their shoulders bumped so he couldn’t blame Geno for being even worse. 

And then the place was empty. Sid was hardly ever alone in the locker room and he took a second just to sit down and enjoy the quiet. He hardly ever just sat alone any more and, well, it wasn’t like he’d change anything about Geno or their relationship but, also, he quite liked just being alone sometimes. 

He’d have to get to the library more, but university work just didn’t seem urgent when exams were so far away, not when he could be with Geno instead. 

He sat there for a moment with his eyes closed, just breathing it in. He ached all over, this late in the season. It wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle, though. Not when the feeling in the room was so good. He could almost feel the closeness of the playoffs, the certainty of their place. 

The locker room door creaked open. 

“Sorry,” he said, the word startled out of him. “I’ll just...” 

He turned to look at the door. Nick was there. He looked, well, to call him a mess might be a compliment. He looked like he’d left Friday morning skate, grabbed a couple of bottles of vodka, and headed straight for the gutter. His clothes were messy, there was a smear of something Sid hoped was dirt on his cheek, his eyes were bloodshot and unfocused, he was swaying slightly. 

He looked like a cry for help. 

“Hey, Nick. You okay, man?” 

“Didn’t think you’d be here,” Nick said. He took a hesitant step further into the room and paused. His skates were dangling from his hand. “Just wanted to hit the ice, you know.” 

“Oh, for sure,” Sid said, slowly. “You in any fit state to be out there, though?” 

Nick laughed, bitterly. He swayed a little, the skates swaying beside him and Sid wanted to step in and steady him but, as much as things between them had been slowly improving, he was pretty sure that Nick wasn’t going to react favourably if he tried. 

“Just let me fucking skate, kid. I just want to skate.” 

Sid stepped aside. He wasn’t the only guy in the building, he couldn’t be. There’d be ice staff hanging about, maybe even other hockey people. Coach tended to stay late and the equipment guy was often about. Sid could run and find one of them, he could. He just had this really weird feeling that he didn’t want to take his eyes off Nick, that if he did something was going to go wrong. 

Nick sat down in his stall and kicked his way out of his trainers, which were caked in mud. He pulled on his skates and managed to get them laced then pushed himself to his feet. He wobbled there for a second and Sid was almost sure he was going to go over and hurt his ankle but he stabilised then went through to the ice. 

As he walked, something dropped from his pocket. Sid waited for a second until he was out of sight then reached out and grabbed it. 

A pill packet, empty. 

Shit. 

The door to the locker room opened. Sid looked over to find the caretaker there, looking in anxiously. “Is he okay?” the guy said, gesturing at the door. Sid’s hand tightened on the pill packet. 

He’d presumed Nick was drunk, but what if he wasn’t. He checked the pills, fluoxetine. He didn’t even know what the hell that was or what the symptoms of an overdose were. Of course, maybe Nick had just finished his pills normally. Maybe he was fine. 

“I think you’d better call an ambulance,” Sid said, holding the pill packet out. “It might be nothing but… I’ll stay with him.” 

The caretaker nodded. He took the packet and retreated, leaving Sid with nothing to do but head out to the side of the rink. 

There was a pool of vomit by the door but Nick had managed to get himself on the ice and was skating in slow circles. He kept stopping, looking around like he wasn’t sure what was going on, then slowly skating away again. Sid itched to go grab his own skates, to go and grab Nick and shake him, to demand to know what was going on. 

Instead, he made his way around to the bench and sat down. Nick noticed him but didn’t do anything about it. He just kept skating, stumbling sometimes. Sid found himself watching every twitch, every movement, looking for signs of overdose. Signs of alcohol. He hoped to god it was only alcohol. 

Eventually, Nick slowed, then made his way over to the bench. He nearly fell twice as he did it but he managed it. He leant against the boards right next to Sid and, this close, he stank. 

“Hey, buddy,” Sid said, trying to keep his voice soft. Nick nodded, apparently finishing some kind of internal conversation with himself, then looked up and met Sid’s eye. 

“I think I fucked up.” 

“Wanna tell me about it?” 

Nick looked away again. For a second, Sid was sure he was going to say no, was going to skate away. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out another couple of empty packs of pills, letting them fall to the ground. 

Well, there went the just drunk hypothesis. 

“Shit, Nick.” 

“I know,” Nick said, his voice thick and, damn everything, he looked like he was about to start crying right there. “I just, shit.” 

“Yeah,” Sid agreed. He stood up and picked up the packets. “Come on, let’s get you off the ice. Help’s gonna be here soon.” 

“I just,” he said, then stopped. He glanced out over the ice, still cut up from the game. “I guess I’m just a complete fuck up. Did you guys win tonight?” 

“Yeah,” Sid said, daring a step forward. 

“Looks like you don’t need me either.” 

“Nick…” 

“My wife left me. It’s been… she did it ages ago, you know. At the start of the season. I was meant to move away, we were, only then she threw me out so…” 

So he stayed. So he slept in his car. So he tried to carry on as normal and hoped that nobody noticed. Sid remembered. 

“That sucks.” 

“Yeah,” Nick agreed. “I thought… around christmas she let me back in the house. I thought we were gonna fix shit, you know. I thought it was the first step to her taking me back. She, like, made me go to the doctor and he gave me some pills.” 

“And things got better?” 

“Only we’re not getting back together. She’s moving, taking the kids, we’re gonna sell the house. She just told me all that. Just sat me down and told me and I…” 

Sid nodded. He didn’t need to finished, it was pretty obvious what had happened next. Bad decision on bad decision and then one last skate, one last chance to be out on the ice as his world crumbled around him. 

Sid got it. 

Behind him, a door opened. He glanced back to see the caretaker in the doorway to the changing rooms, an ambulance woman stood behind him. He looked back at Nick, staring out over the ice, his gaze distant. 

“Come on, Nick,” he said, keeping his voice even. “Help’s here.” 

Nick wobbled for a second. He glanced back toward the locker room, to Sid, then back out at the ice. He had to know his career was over, along with apparently everything else. He needed some serious help and he wasn’t going to get that while still playing hockey. He needed time and space and that probably meant he wasn’t going back out on the ice again, not as a professional. 

“One more lap,” he said, then pushed off unsteadily. Sid didn’t try to stop him. He detoured by the paramedic, putting the empty pill packets in her hands. There were two of them, both paracetamol which meant Nick had probably just taken whatever he had to hand. Sid could only hope the packets hadn’t been full. 

Then he made his way over to the gate to the ice and opened it, held it until Nick was off the ice and heading towards help. 

***

Geno stumbled into the apartment and Sid jerked, his attention pulled back into the present for the first time in he didn’t even know how long. He’d come home from the rink, paced around the apartment for a while, desperately wanting to do something but at the same time not knowing what to do. It felt like he should be acting, be helping someone or doing something but there was nothing he could do so instead he’d brewed coffee and paced. 

“I’m thought you come join us. I’m thought… Sid, what wrong?” 

He’d thought about going out to the pub but he wasn’t sure how he’d be able to look them in the eye without immediately blurting out Nick’s private medical shit and he knew he shouldn’t do that. He just didn’t know what else to do. 

Geno was looking at him, eyes wide. Sid blinked at him. 

“Sid?” 

“I… Nick tried to kill himself.” 

Geno didn’t move, apparently processing. 

“He showed up at the rink. Shit, I probably shouldn’t tell you this. I just… I was getting ready to leave but I stayed with him until the ambulance got there and he’s, like, with their crisis team now for mental health and shit and I just…” 

“You sit here all this time alone?” Geno asked, shedding his coat. Sid nodded. “Should have called, tell me come home.” 

“I didn’t want to ruin your night.” 

“Not ruin, never ruin. You need talk?” 

Sid nodded, then paused. He wasn’t sure he did. He wasn’t even sure there was anything to talk about. He’d been over and over it in his own head, pulling together every clue from every interaction they’d had with Nick in the last however many months. He could see it now, was the thing. He’d known the guy needed help, he just hadn’t felt like he was the one who could provide it but maybe he could have. Maybe if he’d tried…

A heavy hand landed on his knee. Sid looked up to find that Geno had moved over and knelt beside him. He was close enough that it would be easy for Sid to fold forward and press his face into Geno’s neck. 

“I should have known.” 

“You’re Captain, Sid. Not mind reader. Can’t know everything.” 

“No, but…” 

“Nobody else know. Many people on team know Nick for long time, they’re not know.” 

“Yeah,” Sid admitted. He reached down and put his hand over Geno’s, watching their fingers fit together. 

He’d never hurt himself, never try to kill himself. The thing was, though, he kind of understood the impulse that had lead to Nick taking those pills. After all, hockey was so fucking temporary. He was working so hard here, but all of these relationships would fall apart and disappear. In a few years he’d be across the world and maybe a few fans might remember his name, a few guys might think favourably about the time they played with him. 

He understood what it meant to lose. 

Geno lifted his hand and brought it up to cradle Sid’s jaw. Then he raised his other hand too, holding Sid firmly in place as he leant in and kissed him. The touch was electric and Sid pressed forward into it, reaching out to wrap his arms around Geno and pull him closer. 

Geno tried to pull back but Sid kept a tight hold on him, kept kissing him and clinging to him until Geno gave in, climbing almost on top of Sid on the couch and pressing him back into the cushions, digging needy fingers into Sid’s hips, his thighs, his sides. Each touch seemed to pull Sid back into his skin a little more and he needed it, needed it so badly he ached for it. He gasped as Geno got under his clothes, as he moved that talented mouth from Sid’s mouth to his neck, his chest. Every wave of sensation pulled Sid into his body, wrapped him up there and pushed its way into him until Sid’s world narrowed to need and desire and the rolling pleasure of hands and mouths. 

In the aftermath, Sid let Geno guide him to his feet. He trailed Geno to the bathroom and let Geno shove him in the shower. They kissed under the pounding water then Geno washed him and dried him and lead him to bed. 

Wrapped in the sheets, in Geno’s arms, the last of the adrenaline dissipated and Sid finally let himself relax. 

“Thanks,” he said into Geno’s shoulder. 

“No problem,” Geno said, arms tightening around Sid. “You’re feel better?” 

“Yeah.” And then, because life was short. “I love you.” 

Geno didn’t say anything for a second but Sid made himself relax with the words sat there between them. He’d said them and he meant them, he didn’t want to take them back. He loved Geno, Geno should know. So what it it wasn’t a forever love, it was still love. 

Then Geno leant down and brushed the gentles of kisses against Sid’s forehead. 

“I’m love you too.” 

Sid smiled, hugged Geno a little tighter, then settled into sleep.


	29. Saturday, 2nd March, 2019

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the first part of this chapter, they discuss Nick's mental health, particularly his suicide attempt from the last chapter. If you'd like to avoid reading that then start where it says "Well, at least Callum was a distraction. He could use one of those."

Saturday, 2nd March, 2019 

Sid settled himself down into the coach seat and fished in his bag, grabbing one of his textbooks. He’d chatted to Geno in the car and they’d already decided that, since Sid was actually behind on his reading and not just imagining he was because he had an overblown sense of obligation, Geno would sit somewhere else on the ride to Fife and not expect Sid to entertain him. 

Apparently the message hadn’t been passed on as, when the coach engines rumbled to life, Eddy appeared and dropped into the seat Geno normally sat in. Sid let the book, still unopened, fall to his lap. 

“Hey,” Eddy said, leaning in. “I got a call from Nick last night.” 

Any frustration Sid might have felt at being interrupted evaporated. He leant in. “Yeah, how is he?” 

“I mean, not good, but better. I mean, as good as he can be, I guess? He’s coping.” 

“He’s got somewhere to stay?” 

“He moved back in with his dad. It’s not ideal, you’ve never met Nick’s dad, right?” 

“No,” Sid said, frowning. He’d met a lot of the british guys parents, mosty after games when they’d be flushed with pride for their sons. Wives, too, and he’d never met Nick’s wife, or kids. Another thing to add to the list of signs he should have spotted. 

“Well, he kind of gets too into things. Nick had to get him to stop coming to the games because he got really angry at the other teams and shouted abuse. He’s a good guy, really cares about his family, but he can be a lot.” 

Sid smiled. He knew a thing or two about dads who could be a lot. “But Nick’s okay living with him?” 

“For now. He wanted me to thank you and to tell you he’s got the test results back, no permanent damage done. He was lucky, really. Those pill packs were nearly empty.” He paused then and Sid let the silence hang between them. He’d been lucky. 

“He’s getting help, though.” 

“Yeah,” Eddy confirmed, blinking away whatever he’d been thinking. “He said he’s still seeing the crisis team and they’re trying him on some different medication so, fingers crossed. But at least he’s getting help.” 

“For sure,” Sid agreed. 

They chatted together for a little while longer, talking about Eddy’s family and Sid’s uni work and things until Eddy excused himself and Sid finally opened his textbook. His eyes moved across the page but, honestly, he was just thinking about Nick. Sure, he had his dad, but did he really have anyone else? Was he really going to be okay? They were giving him drugs but how much help were drugs when you had nothing, when your career was over and the person you loved left you?

He’d been thinking about it a lot. 

He needed to not think about it on the bus to Fife. He had work to do and a hockey game to play in the evening. He didn’t have time to worry about the future. 

If only worry were that easy to stop. 

The looked up from his book with a sigh, realising he hadn’t taken in a single thing on the page, and his eyes met Callum’s. Callum was sitting alone, phone in hand, apparently watching Sid. Once Sid actually made eye contact he slid out of his seat quickly and moved to drop into Geno’s seat, biting his lip. 

Well, at least Callum was a distraction. He could use one of those. 

“Hey, kid. How’s things?” 

“Fine,” Callum said, phone spinning in his fingers. “Everything’s fine.” 

Sid raised an eyebrow. He was pretty fluent now in Callum’s tone of voice and that was not a fine tone of voice. 

“Okay, I mean, not fine. I guess. But not, like, terrible or anything. Just… yeah.” 

“What’s wrong?” Sid closed his book and let it fall to his lap. 

“Nothing. I mean, yeah. But it’s nothing big, I promise. I don’t need you to, like, come swooping in and save me or whatever. I guess I just want to bitch a little.” 

“For sure, I’m all ears, you know.” 

“Yeah,” Callum said, settling in. “It’s just, like, my parents. I love them, you know. And I know they love me. I know they do. It’s just… I think they’re not really as okay with my being gay as they want to be.” 

“What do you mean?” Sid asked, fist clenching. 

“Like, they want to be these cool parents and welcome Paul into the family and everything but every time we hang out with them, they’re super weird. Like, my mum says Paul’s name too often. And she keeps, like, singling him out. Like, she’ll offer a cup of tea then specifically ask Paul even if he’s already said he doesn’t want one or whatever. And my dad keeps starting conversations then trailing off and they both, like, look at him a lot. Like, I think they want to be okay with him being there but they don’t actually know how to talk to him.” 

“Sounds tough,” Sid said. He’d lived in a few house shares with guys who hadn’t known how to talk to him, he could relate. 

“Yeah. I mean, it’s fine. We spend most of our time in my room and, like, netflix and chill or whatever. And we go out a lot. I make sure we go out a lot and Paul’s still in college so he’s out all day at least. Did you know he’s, like, super smart. He’s going to be a vet, he already got accepted at Liverpool and we’re looking at, like, hardship grants and things.” Callum was almost beaming with pride and Sid couldn’t help but grin at him. He looked so in love, and god but Sid knew that feeling. He wondered if it was as obvious in his expression every time Geno scored a goal. 

“That’s awesome, Callum.” 

“Yeah. He’s awesome. But, like, things aren’t great. It’ll be better next year. I talked to coach and he says that, if I’m studying, next year part of my pay deal can be club housing which might, like, be shared with other players but at least it won’t be my parents, you know.” 

“Sounds awesome.” 

“It’s just until then. We’ll be okay until then.” 

It was the hint of doubt in his voice on that last sentence, like he was trying to convince himself, that left Sid worried. 

They talked for a while longer, Callum going on about something he’d been watching on netflix about umbrellas and the end of the world or something and Sid doling out an anecdote about an old teammate, a roll of toilet paper, three apple pies and a lifetime ban from Arby’s. Then Callum was apparently cheered up enough that he peeled off, leaving Sid to his textbook again. 

He only got a few pages in before they were pulling off into a service station so he abandoned it and piled off the bus with the others to go use the bathroom and buy unnecessary and overpriced sweets. 

He was the first back on the bus, settling into his seats with a bag of maltesers and a bottle of water. He picked is book up, opened it, and was supremely unsurprised when Geno dropped into the seat next to him a minute later, elbowing him in the ribs. 

“Hey,” Geno said, holding out a bag of jelly babies. Sid sighed and grabbed one. 

“Hey. How’s the cards.” 

“They’re all cheat. Worst.” 

“They are,” Sid agreed. 

“Notice people bother you. You’re get any reading done?” 

“I mean, a couple of pages,” Sid said, tapping the book. “Not enough but, I guess there’s always the ride back down. That’ll be calm, probably. Even if we win, we can’t party all the way back.” They definitely had before but, this late in the season, everyone was much more tired and they were facing down a Sunday game against the lightning who should be easy to beat, dead bottom of the table as they were, but who somehow kept fighting. 

He guessed he’d play like that if he career was on the line, too. He could just use an easy game and there didn’t seem to be any easy games in the elite league at the moment. 

“Is okay, I’m help now.” 

“You’re going to help?” 

“Yes. Am tired. I’m sleep here. You read, nobody can come sit, start talking.” 

That was actually a great idea. Sid pushed himself up in his chair and looked around. The bus was empty. The door was open but the driver was outside, vaping. He risked leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to Geno’s cheek. Geno looked pleased with himself. 

“Thanks, G.” 

“No problem,” Geno said, settling down into his seat. God, Sid loved him. He’d said it a few times now, every time it felt like something precious and fragile. He’d never loved anyone like this. He’d been with guys, sure, even thought about futures with them, but never like this. 

“Hey,” he said, nudging Geno with his knee. “You know, Callum’s having a bit of a problem. His parents aren’t really comfortable with Paul.” 

“Is tough,” Geno said, nodding. Sid bit his lip. He was probably wasting his time here but…

“You know, we basically live together already. I mean, when’s the last time you really spent any time back in your apartment?” 

“Don’t know,” Geno said, frowning. “You’re not like?” 

“No, I like,” Sid said, lowing his voice again, though the bus was deserted. “I mean, I love it. I love you. But your place’s just sat there, empty, and Callum needs a place…” 

Geno’s eyes widened as he caught up with Sid. He glanced around then, too, and folded himself over. 

“You’re think he have my flat?” 

“I mean, it’d help him.” 

“But, people know then. About me.” 

Which was the real problem. And Sid knew it was, he wasn’t going to try and diminish it or what it might mean for Geno to be Russian and dating a guy. 

“But just Callum and Paul. They wouldn’t tell anyone and nobody else would have to know. Everyone could just think they were still living with Callum’s folk. But it’d be so much better for them.” And someone would know. He’d been hiding this from everyone. Well, except Taylor obviously. She’d known he was gay for years and she knew he was dating Geno, she’d guessed and he hadn’t been willing to lie to her. He hadn’t told anyone else thought, not even his parents, and it’d be so good to have someone know. Maybe they could have double dates? Maybe Paul and Callum would hang out some evenings and he’d sit on the couch with Geno’s arm draped posessively around his shoulder and know he belonged. 

“Can’t, Sid,” Geno said. He sounded genuinely sorry which was almost enough to break Sid’s heart. “Know you’re trust but they’re just kids. Maybe they’re slip up, maybe they’re not really understand. Can’t risk.” 

“Yeah,” Sid said, turning to look at his book, still closed in his lap. “I… yeah. Sorry. I shouldn’t have even asked.” 

“No, is okay that you’re ask. I’m wish I’m say yes. Wish I’m just say, fuck Russia, let entire world know I’m love you.” 

“But you can’t.” 

“Can’t,” Geno agreed. “I’m do love you, though.” 

“Yeah,” Sid agreed. He leant in and pressed his forehead against Geno’s shoulder and Geno’s hand came up to cradle his skull, holding him close and safe. “I love you too.” 

He could hear the voices of shouting teammates outside so he forced himself to pull away. Geno looked so fucking unhappy and Sid hated that he’d put that look there but he’d had to ask. He’d thought it’d be okay, it was only Callum and Paul. He got why Geno would say no, though. It was a massive risk, he was already taking such a massive risk just being with Sid and it wasn’t fair for Sid to ask more of him. 

He just wished, that was all. 

He dared to lean in for a quick kiss, a dry and chaste press of lips, then pulled back again. Geno smiled, reached over to squeeze his hand, then people were climbing onto the bus and he let go, slumping down into his seat and closing his eyes. Sid turned back to his book, wishing more than anything he could lean over, put his head on Geno’s shoulder and just sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seven chapters and an epilogue to go now. I've been reflecting on this fic a lot. Writing it like this, trying to stick with the season, has been a journey. I've obviously struggled to keep up a lot of the time. It's been challenging in other ways, too. As I try and bring things to a close I know there are plot threads that I've dropped and never picked up again. There are things I really wanted to go into that have ended up having a lot less time and things I didn't mean to put as many words into as I have. I don't regret writing the fic like this, one of the great things about fic is that it allows you to experiment, but it's been a journey. 
> 
> We're in the run to playoffs now. It'll be chapter a week as normal then, after playoff final weekend, I'll post a few chapters, one for each days of playoff finals weekend. I'm no Nottingham for the playoffs so those chapters will be written after the fact, but I'll take some photos for you to stick on the end for you local british hockey flavour. It's weird as I'm nearing the part of the fic where I'm ready to be done and just want to write to the end but I also want it to take forever as this fic being over means that hockey will be over for the year for me and I'm not ready for that yet. 
> 
> Also, I hope I've treat Nick's mental health in a believable way. It will come up again and continue echoing through the fic, it's not a thread I'm just going to drop I promise because I believe you don't put something with that much weight into a story without fully allowing it to have its effect, but he will ultimately be fine. I'm steering this ship to a happy ending for everyone, that I promise you.


	30. Thursday 7th March, 2019

Thursday 7th March, 2019

A Thursday night in Coventry wasn’t necessarily Sid’s idea of a good time. Not that he had anything against Coventry specifically, really, it was just that he had a class on Friday morning and it wasn’t like he ever got much rest on the bus. Plus, Coventry always brought a loud crowd and, while he was used to facilities being what they were in the UK, if he had to pick a place to visit on a Thursday evening he’d take one of the new arenas like Cardiff or Nottingham over the Coventry Skydome. 

Still, he suited up and tried to get fired up. Every point counted, they were coming into the last few weeks of competition and they had to treat every game like it was a decider. He knew that. All the guys knew that. 

The game was a disaster. 

They got on the ice, lost the faceoff, took a stupid penalty and conceded a goal all within the first minute, which had to be some kind of record. 

It went downhill from there. 

There were seven minutes left in the third. They were 0-6 down. The goalie was pulled but they were all skating like they’d never seen ice before. They kept passing the puck around, desperately looking for that chance but then hesitating and losing it again. Sid was done. His blood was boiling. His hands were itching in his gloves. 

The puck came towards him but he fumbled it, not quite settling it down and a Blaze player was there, almost stealing it off his stick and tearing down the ice. Sid cursed, started to follow and, thwack, another player ran into him. Not that hard but enough to throw him off balance, slow him down. Sid wanted to strangle the guy. He wanted to scream. They’d been playing so well, this wasn’t fair. 

Then Callum was tearing past, bombing down the ice. He managed to cut off the breakaway, just, as the crowd booed around them and Sid’s fists tightened in his gloves. 

“Fucking faggot,” the player who’d smacked into him said. 

Sid didn’t hesitate. 

His fist connecting with the guy’s fucking face was pretty satisfying, though getting punched back wasn’t exactly great. Sid had never been much of a fighter but he just let himself swing, let all the frustration from the game and from everything fly down his arms and into whatever part he could reach of this guy’s body until the refs moved in, pulling them apart. 

Then, just to really fuck it up, he shouted some abuse at them too and the next thing he knew he was back in the locker room. 

He slammed around for a bit, punching things and kicking at the benches and swearing up a storm until, by degrees, the fight ran out of him and he slumped down onto the bench. 

Fuck. 

He sat there with his eyes closed and just forced himself to breathe, to focus on the steady rise and fall of his chest. It was hard, though. He could still feel the frustration of the game. The game that was still going on. The frustration of being so close to the end of the season and the only thing they could hope for still being just out of reach was weighing pretty heavily too. 

Fuck. 

Outside, the fans roared and Sid hung his head. They’d lost, then. He sat there, hunched over, still in his full gear. He’d never been thrown out of a game before. Never. 

It felt like of weird to think about changing, though he’d probably calmed down enough to do it by they, so he just sat there and waited. It wasn’t long before people started filing in. None of them were meeting his eye but they weren’t exactly meeting each other’s eyes either, just trooping to their seats with their heads down. A lot of them looked as wound up as Sid felt. 

The ride home wasn’t going to be great. 

Geno dropped into the seat next to him and didn’t say anything. Sid didn’t blame him. The crowd above were still making noise like they’d just won the Stanley Cup and not a random Thursday night game. 

Then the door banged open and Coach was there. He looked as mad as anyone and Sid hung his head instinctively. They were going to get it. 

“What was that?” he yelled, gesturing out at the ice. “What the fuck was that? Did you all just collectively decide you’re going to give up ice hockey or something, because it sure as fuck looked like that. That was the worst fucking skating I’ve seen from you. That was a fucking disaster.” 

Nobody dared to speak. Sid kept his head down, his hands tight on the bench. 

“And you, Crosby.” 

Yeah. 

“Stand up.” 

Sid did, keeping his eyes down. He was pretty sure all the guys were looking at him, as they should. He’d fucked up. He was meant to be Captain, was meant to show the other guys how to act. A fight was okay at the right time, for the right reason. 

“The fuck was that?” 

“He called Callum a faggot.” 

There was a rumble around the locker room at that. Some of the guys at least got why he did it now. He dared to look up. A few of them met his eyes, most of them were still finding the floor of the locker room pretty interesting. 

“So you got yourself thrown out of the game? We needed you out there. Okay, we’d lost, but there was still a chance to at least get one goal. One fucking goal. But you pissed that away.” 

“So, what,” Sid snapped, the anger bubbling up in him again. “I was just meant to let him call Callum a faggot?” 

“Yes,” Coach said. “You were. It won’t be the first time, it probably won’t be the last time, especially if news gets around the league that you’ll punch people for it.” 

“That’s bullshit.” 

“Yes,” Coach agreed. “Complete bullshit. But it’s hockey. Callum’s going to have to get used to it. You’re going to have to get used to it.” 

The thing was, Sid was used to it. He’d been hearing people calling each other fags, pussies, queers, his entire life. He’d grown up with it. He’d learnt not to let it get to him. It hadn’t even been why he’d thrown a punch today, not really. It’d been a good excuse but his blood had been boiling. 

Now, though, he thought about Callum getting used to it. He thought about all the kids who were going to have to come after getting used to it. It was meant to be getting better. It should be getting better. 

“I’m gay.” 

“What?” 

“I’m gay and I’m fucking sick of hiding it. I spent my entire life listening to the same homophobic shit on the ice, listening to guys call each other gay like it’s the worst thing to be and knowing that, if they could, they’d beat the shit out of me for being gay. That when they called a guy a faggot, they were saying the thing I am is so disgusting to them, it’s the worst thing they can think of for a guy to be. And I shut up, because it’s hockey. I let them say what they wanted because one guy can’t change an entire game. Because I love this stupid fucking game and the only way to play was to be quiet and private and stay fucking safe. 

“But I’m done. Things should be getting better. We should be getting better. And we are. I’ve see how all you guys have been with Callum, you’ve been great. You’ve been trying. There’s no reason that hockey has to be homophobic. There’s no reason I should have to put up with guys like that on the ice. And I won’t. I'm done.” 

The locker room was silent. Sid looked around. Most of them met his eyes now, heads up in a silent show of support. 

Geno kept his head down. 

Coach sighed. 

“Fuck, Crosby. It’s not about that, though I guess it is. Fine, he shouldn’t have said that. We should be better. We’re trying.” 

“I know,” Sid said. “And, yeah, I get that maybe that wasn’t a great time for a fight. I fucked up tonight, we all did. We need to be better. We are better than we showed them out there.” 

A few of the guys mumbled agreement at that. Sid dared to meet Coach’s eye again and the guy nodded. He returned the nod and retreated back to his stall. Geno still wasn’t meeting his eye, which was fine. Of course Geno wouldn’t want to raise suspicions about just how close their friendship was. Not when Sid had just outed himself in front of the entire team. 

Shit, he’d just outed himself in front of the entire team. 

Shit. 

He reached down and tried to untie his skates but his fingers were shaking too badly. He couldn’t believe he’d just done that. He’d been running and hiding for so long, always playing it cool and denying himself and hoping that nobody looked too closely at why he never seemed to have a girlfriend or pick up when they went to clubs. 

And now the entire room knew. Which meant, because all hockey players were complete gossips, that soon the entire league would know. Then a few select fans. Then everyone. It’d be some kind of open secret and he wouldn’t be able to escape it. Everyone would know. 

He was sweating just thinking about it. This was insane. He couldn’t do this. He wished he could pull it back into himself and make this not happen. 

Then someone was kneeling down next to him. He looked up, half expecting to find Geno, but Geno was already gone. Callum was there instead, already mostly in his street clothes, looking concerned. 

“Hey, you okay?” 

No. 

“I’m fine,” he forced himself to say, digging his fingers into his knees and hoping that hid the shaking. “Didn’t mean to do that.” 

“Yeah, I figured,” Callum said. “Thanks though, m’dude. For sticking up for me.” 

“Any time.” 

“Come on,” Callum said, reaching forward and tugging at Sid’s skate laces. Sid would have protested but he genuinely wasn’t sure he could get them himself so he let Callum do it, let him help Sid to his feet and help him get changed. Most of the guys had gone on to the bus but Eddy hung back too, watching at the door until Sid was in a fit state to travel and then walking out to the bus with them. 

Sid needed to talk to Geno. He knew he did. They needed to work out what came next for them, if anything came next for them. 

Geno was already at the back of the bus, talking quietly to some of the guys. Sid let himself be hustled into his usual seat. Callum sat next to him, Eddy across from them, and they both immediately launched into a long conversation which clearly didn’t need Sid’s input. He reminded himself to thank them later as he slid down into his seat and let himself really process what he’d just done. 

Shit.


	31. Chapter 31

Friday 15th March, 2019

Sid rolled over, half awake and discontent. There was something wrong. He didn’t want to open his eyes but his mind kept nagging at him, telling him there was something that needed his attention. He took a quick mental inventory. He didn’t need the bathroom, he wasn’t dying of hunger, everything was fine. 

Then it clicked. The bed was empty. He was sleeping alone. 

He opened his eyes. 

The other pillow, Geno’s pillow, was still indented in the middle from when Geno had last slept over, two nights ago. Sid hadn’t quite been able to bring himself to shake it out. Not now, when he wasn’t sure Geno was going to sleep there again. He’d slept over twice since Sid had come out, every other night he’d had an excuse. 

Sid was getting really sick of excuses. 

He glanced over at the clock. Five. Way too early for him to be awake. He rolled over and threw his arm over his eyes. The stupid thing was Geno was so fucking close. Sid could go outside and bang on Geno’s door right now. Hell, he had a key. He could let himself in and go climb into Geno’s bed, fold himself into Geno’s side, snuggle into his warmth. Geno would be half asleep and he was always so pliable when he was half asleep, moving easily to accommodate Sid. 

The thing was, if he did that, they’d probably have to have a discussion. He didn’t want that, not yet. Geno was still clearly thinking through things and it wasn’t like he’d rejected Sid entirely. He kept showing up unexpectedly and then leaving abruptly, like he didn’t know what he was doing. Sid wasn’t going to lose hope for them, not yet. 

He just had to wait and hopefully, when the dust settled, Geno would realise they were better together, that their love was worth fighting for. 

***

Friday meant early morning skate. They had to be in and out before the rink opened to the public. There were three more weekends left and then the league would be over, playoff positions decided, and they were still loitering one point below a playoff spot. 

Geno was ignoring him and Callum was playing like shit. 

He tried not to take the first one personally. It wasn’t as though Geno was blanking him entirely, he just kept casting him furtive glances when the other guys weren’t paying attention and looking like he’d never been sadder but then, every time Sid skated over to him, he’d look shifty and skate away, or say something short and meaningless. It’s not like Sid expected anything else, not out on the ice where everyone could see, but it still hurt. 

Callum was easier to deal with. 

“Hey,” he said, coming to a stop where Callum was leaning against the boards, trying to catch his breath. “So, you’re distracted?” 

“I guess.” 

Said paused. Callum didn’t look over at him. “Want to talk?” 

Callum shrugged. “It’s nothing new. Things are just, like, more of the same. With my parents and Paul and shit.” 

“That’s rough,” Sid said. He glanced across the ice to Geno, running some shooting drills. There was no chance of his vague, half-formed plan happening now. “I wish I could help.” 

“Yeah, me too. But shit’s gonna happen, right?” 

“Right,” Sid agreed. He just wished he could do something about it. He wished he could fix even one thing. 

Coming out had been weirdly anti-climatic. It had almost been a non-event after the initial blow up. One of the brits had offered to set Sid up with a guy from his office. He’d had a few awkward ‘I totally support you’ conversations, but mostly life had gone on as if something fundamental hadn’t shifted below his feet. 

And it wasn’t like he’d expected to give a stirring speech and for the entire NHL to declare themselves allies of the gays and homophobia to be vanished, but he’d expected something more. Something that would justify the years he’d spent worrying and hiding. 

Instead, it hadn’t even fixed Callum’s problems. It had made Geno afraid to be seen with him in public. 

He wished he could take it back. 

“But, like, you’re right. I can’t dwell on that shit now. It’ll be better next year when we’ve got a place of our own. Hell, maybe we’ll have Geno’s place, when he goes back to Russia.” 

“Maybe,” Sid agreed, pushing aside the way he felt about Geno going back to Russia with practiced ease. 

“Then we’d be flat mates, kind of. That’d be awesome.” 

“Yeah,” Sid agreed. Them upstairs, being young and in love with their entire lives laid out in front of them and him downstairs, alone, broken hearted, wondering how he even got into these situations. 

Geno laughed across the ice and he looked over, helpless. Geno was chirping someone, easy and grinning and so fucking beautiful. He didn’t have to ask how he’d got into this situation, he’d never had a choice. 

He wished he could just go over there and loop his arm around Geno, press close to him. Geno would only wiggle away, though, and Sid knew why. He knew the inevitability of his secret leaking out of the locker room, he’d already been told by a few of the staff that they knew, and that Geno couldn’t stand to have that connection. Not if he wanted to go back and play in Russia. 

Knowing that didn’t help. 

“Come on,” Callum said, bumping at Sid’s shoulder. “Let’s go run some drills. See if I can actually concentrate.” 

“Yeah,” Sid agreed. He forced himself to turn away from Geno. “Let’s.” 

***

They were almost back in their street clothes when Nick walked into the locker room. 

He got a round of applause which seemed to quietly please him, then the guys all went around, each taking a second to pat him on the back and tell him he was looking good and they were glad to see him. Sid hung back. He did look good, or better at least. He’d shaved, his clothes were clean and ironed, the bags under his eyes had shrunk to manageable levels, his skin looked healthier, his smile a touch more genuine. 

The locker room started to empty out. Geno slunk off, maybe he’d be waiting by the car like a lost puppy or maybe he’d get a ride with someone else. Callum and a few of the younger guys stopped to say they were thinking of heading to the city centre and to the gay bars after the game on Saturday, did he want to join them? He reminded them they had another game to play on Sunday and sent them on their way. 

Then Nick worked his way around to him. 

“Hey,” he said, shuffling awkwardly in place. “So, thanks.” 

“No, you don’t need to thank me,” Sid said. He stood from his stall and reached out to clasp Nick’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you. I mean, I know everyone’s said it but you’re looking better.” 

Nick snorted. “It’s not hard to look better than shit. I am feeling better though, at least a bit. Like, I’m getting now that I actually need help and shit, you know. Which, I know, I should have got before but…” 

“Hey, you got help in the end. That’s all that’s important.” 

“Right.” Nick nodded. 

“You’re staying with your dad, right?” 

“Yeah, for now. It’s weird, like being a kid again. He’s just trying to be good to me but he keeps trying to do things for me that I can do, you know.” 

“Yeah,” Sid said. “Whenever I go home in the summer my mom insists on, like, doing my washing and shit like I don’t live by myself most of the year. She acts like I don’t know how to turn on a washing machine.” 

“I mean,” Nick said, flushing a little. “I don’t exactly know how to turn on a washing machine, my wife used to… but I’ve got to learn. I’ve just been, like, thinking about this as endings. My marriage, hockey, but the doctor, he says I’d got to think about it as a beginning. Like, maybe hockey’s over but there are other things I’ve got going for me.” 

“Oh, for sure,” Sid agreed. 

“So, you’ve got to look to the future, right?” 

“For sure.” When Sid looked to the future, all he wanted to see these days was Geno. 

“So, yeah. I’m trying.” 

“It’s good, man. That’s all you can do, you know. Try. And you know we’ve all got your back. If you need anything, just let us know.” 

“I will,” Nick said, nodding. “I just, fuck, I’m going to miss hockey.” 

“You’re definitely not coming back?” 

“No. I wanted to, I was going to try and come back for playoffs but the doctors don’t think it’s right and my dad doesn’t and, well, he’s always been the guy who tells me to push harder and go for it and if he thinks it’s time for me to step back.. I was just in talking to management, filling them in. They’re going to do a tribute for me on the last game of the season and then, I mean, then I guess I find out what happens after hockey.” 

“I guess you do,” Sid agreed. He wanted out of this conversation pretty desperately, perhaps he could go and stand in a quiet corner and hyperventilate and try to forget that there even was an after hockey, an after Geno, to think about. “It’s been good to see you though, man. Drop in any time.” 

“I will,” Nick said, then shocked Sid by stepping in and giving him a quick hug. He returned it uncertainly, patting Nick’s back, then watched as he walked away to Eddy, leaning in to talk to the other man. 

He grabbed his things and managed to get out of the locker room without meeting anyone else’s eye. 

Geno was leaning against the car, long and tempting and Sid wished he knew what Geno being there meant. Did he just want a lift home, was he going to follow Sid in and pester him about all the work he had to do, make them both lunch then watch something in Russian on his laptop while Sid worked on his essay, their feet tangled together. 

Geno looked up and met his eye as they got closer. He smiled a second, then glanced around to check nobody saw him. 

Sid hated this. 

They didn’t say anything as they got into the car, or for the drive home. Geno played with the radio, Sid swore at a couple of aggressive drivers who cut in front of him unexpectedly. Sid tried to ignore the mounting tension in the car. He knew he could break it, could turn around and just ask Geno, well, ask him anything really. 

He wished he was brave enough to do that. That he wasn’t so fucking terrified of everything he had to lose. 

They pulled up outside the apartment and Geno stretched. Sid let himself watch the way Geno’s shirt rode up, the strip of exposed skin. He wondered if he could tug Geno in and fuck him. Sure, he had work to do, but he had so little time left, especially with Geno running hot and cold on him. 

“Thanks for lift, Sid. See you later.” 

“Do you want to come in?” Sid asked, hating the hope in his voice. “We could…” he let himself trail off, glancing up and down the street. When he looked up Geno was biting his lip, his eyes fixed on Sid’s crotch and fuck, Sid wanted him. Anything of him he could have. 

“Not sure…” 

“Come on,” Sid said, daring a little step closer. “I’ve missed you.” 

Geno looked up then and met his eye. There was something in there, some need, some love. Sid was sure of it. Geno glanced away, at his door, then back at Sid. He nodded and Sid hurried to his door, unlocking it and letting Geno in then locking it behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly the end of the regular season here now folk, and I'm only running a week late so I think that's not too bad. I'm headed down to Nottingham this weekend for the Panther's last regular season game then I'll try to get a couple of updates out next week so we're something like up to date. The actual scramble of playoff place is real right now. With two games to play, The Coventry Blaze have 58, the Manchester Storm have 57 and the Dundee Stars have 56. It'll be interesting to see how that plays out. 
> 
> Then the week after is playoff quarter finals, where they play two games with the same team, one home and away, and the agregate winner takes the spot in the playoff finals weekend. When we get that far, Sid and Geno are going to have an eventfull weekend so I'll do a chapter a day, though they definitely won't be delivered until after the fact as I'll be down in Nottingham cheering for the boys.


	32. Sunday 24th March 2019

Sunday 24th March 2019 (away vrs Storm) 

Sid was just prepping his peanut butter and jelly sandwich when the call came in. He hadn’t been expecting it so he jumped a little when the phone rang, his knife rattling against the side of the jar. He put it all down and went to grab his phone from where it was charging, only getting more suspicious when he realised it was Pat calling. 

Not that an agent calling at this time of year was unusual but he hadn’t heard from Pat since, well, since a long time and he was on a three year deal so it wasn’t like he needed anything. 

He connected the call then waited for a second for everything to connect at the other end. “Hello,” he said, tentatively. 

“Hi, Sid. It’s great to hear your voice! How are things.” 

“Great?” Sid said, his uncertainty making it a question. “I mean, as far as I know everything’s going great here. We’re just fighting for a playoff position, I guess, so I mean, it could be better but compared to where the team was last year-” 

“That’s great, Sid,” Pat interrupted, which was almost enough to make Sid thank him for saving them from his ramblings. “You’re feeling good about being with the Liver, then. Settled?” 

“Sure?” 

“Great. I’ve been hearing a lot of good things about you is all, Sid. I do, of course, keep up with the play of everyone on my books.” Sid was deeply grateful for the intern tasked with keeping an eye on him. “It’s not escaped notice that you’ve been having yourself a bit of a season over there. I don’t think it’d be wrong to say that, if this team makes the playoffs, it’s because you’ve dragged them there.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Sid said, smiling. “But, yeah, I’m feeling pretty good over here. I’ve got good people around me and I feel like I’m helping, you know.” 

“I do know, and you shouldn’t be modest.” 

“I think that not being modest is what I pay you to do for me.” 

Pat laughed at that. “Yes, there’s certainly that. But, look, I didn’t just call you to chat. The truth is, Sid, I’m not the only person who’s noticed you’ve been having yourself a bit of a season. Do you remember Chris Lance? You played with him when you first made the AHL?” 

“Sure, of course I remember Lancey.” 

“I thought you might. He remembered you too. He’s a coach now and he’s got a job with an ECHL team. He gave me a call and said he’s been watching some of your highlights and he thinks you’re the kind of player he wants over there. He’s got a young team and he’s seem what you’ve been doing with that British kid.” 

“Callum?” 

“Sure. He says you’ve really brought the kid on, that he wants that for his team. He wants you for his team. He knows you, knows the work ethic you’re going to bring.” 

Sid sat down slowly on one of his kitchen chairs. He hadn’t thought of Lancey in years, the guy’d been a veteran when he was first playing. To think that someone from that long ago had been looking for him, watching his scores, thinking about recruiting him. 

He could go back and play in America. Sure, he’d wanted the AHL and this wasn’t the AHL but he could walk away from here. He didn’t have to say for the next two years nursing his broken heart and remembering the touch of Geno’s skin, the honest way he laughed, how he’d butt his head against Sid’s shoulder in the morning when he was tired and wanted coffee but couldn’t remember any English yet. 

He could leave all that behind. He could start again. 

“I know it’s a lot,” Pat was saying. “It’s a great chance, I think the guy really wants to play you, but it’ll mean giving up the qualification you’ve been working towards. I guess you’d get some credit to bring with you.” 

“This is a lot,” Sid admitted. “I didn’t think this was a thing I could hope for.” 

“I know,” Pat said. “Honestly, I was surprised too. Not that I don’t think your playing’s good enough, I just didn’t know anyone was paying attention.” 

“Can I have time to think?” 

“Of course,” Pat said. “As long as you need, within reason. I mean, he’s not going to wait forever. Just call me when you have an answer.” 

“I will,” Sid promised. 

***

The thing was, it should have been an easy choice. He liked Liverpool well enough and he liked playing for the team but it had only ever been a temporary thing. He’d miss the guys and the fans but he’d missed a lot of guys and fans over the years and he’d coped. Even the degree, that had been something he’d agreed to in a kind of desperation, a grab to have something after hockey was gone. It wasn’t something that should stand in the way of a chance to play better hockey. 

He glanced down the bus. Geno had placed himself near the front and was playing some kind of card game with a group of the guys. It seemed to involve a lot of hand gesturing, swearing, and shit talking, all things Geno was particularly good at. The other guys were gathered around him, laughing, but Geno seemed to stand out somehow. His smile seemed wider, his presence more compelling. 

Sid slumped down into his seat so he wouldn’t have to look. Geno was leaving. He couldn’t think about Geno. 

He pulled out his phone and messed about for a while before opening his messages. He bypassed the team chat and his parents well meaning questions about when he was coming home for the summer and found his conversation with Taylor. 

He drafted a message a few times before he finally finished one he felt like he could send. 

>> I might have a chance to play hockey in the US next year. 

<< That’s great 

Her reply was almost instant and he smiled. God, he missed her. His parents too, of course, but not like he missed Taylor. She used to visit him more, to call him more. He felt so far away from her here. 

>> Yeah 

She started typing, then stopped. Then again. Finally, a message appeared. 

<< Are you happy? 

>> Sure. 

<< You’re just not saying much

He blinked. He wasn’t, he guessed. He wasn’t sure there was much to say. Only, when he was thinking about it last year, he’d had a lot to say about England. He’d talked through it for hours, now he just wanted to avoid thinking about where he might end up plying at all. 

He looked down at his phone and suddenly and acutely knew it wasn’t the job he wanted to talk to Taylor about. He glanced down the bus to Geno. 

>> I think I’m in love.  
>> No, I know I’m in love. 

<< OMFG  
<< Have you told him?  
<< Shit  
<< Isn’t he going back to Russia? 

He hesitated over what to say to that. While Taylor knew about Geno, they’d never really talked about it at length. Geno had just been a guy he was dating, like all the other guys he’d dated. 

>> Yeah  
>> I guess

<< You guess? 

>> Things are weird. 

<< Do you need me to phone?????

>> I can’t talk.  
>> On the bus. 

<< Okay but  
<< Weird????????

>> Yeah  
>> Since I came out

<>Yeah  
>> Like  
>> I know he can’t come out. I don’t want him to. But he doesn’t seem to talk to me any more. 

<< But you love him? 

>> Yeah

<< Have you talked to him?  
<< Like, about how you feel?  
<< How he’s making you feel? 

If it were that easy, Sid wouldn’t be sitting here talking to his little sister about his problems. 

<< SID! 

>> I can’t

<< You’ve got to.  
<< OMFG  
<< You need to talk to him. 

>> It won’t do me any good, he’s going to Russia. 

<< Okay but  
<< Then you’ve got nothing to lose  
<< Right?  
<< and you’ve gotta give him the chance

>> There is no chance. 

<< Do you want to be with him? 

More than anything. Sid closed his eyes. God, he wanted to be with Geno. He wanted to wake up to him every morning. He wanted to say damn the world and hold Geno tight to him. He wanted to marry Geno and adopt a whole host of lanky children for them to raise together. He wanted so many things. 

<< Maybe it’s hopeless.  
<< Maybe he wants Russia more than you.  
<< But you’ve gotta let him know that’s the choice he’s making, squirt.  
<< Does he even know that? Maybe he thinks you don’t want him to stay. 

>> He can’t think that. 

<< How do you know? 

How did he know? He’d just presumed. 

Geno glanced back and caught Sid’s eye and, just for a second, his expression softened. He smiled a little more gently, nodded just a little, and it pulled on Sid’s heart. 

What if Taylor was right? She probably wasn’t. Whatever Sid did here, Geno was probably going back to Russia, but what if she was right? What if he thought Sid was just spending time, that Sid wasn’t ready to give up almost anything to keep Geno at his side. 

Shit, he was going to have to talk to him. He hated talking. 

>> He doesn’t like talking. He’ll get pissed at me. 

<< Would that be worse than what you have now? 

Geno ignoring him? The slow ticking down of the clock? Shit, if they didn’t make playoffs their season would be over in a week. Was it worth it, for a week of this weird half relationship? Geno might come over once, twice, and they might hook up before Geno guiltily shuffled off. Geno might throw him a few significant looks that he could store up to live on for the rest of his life. 

Was that worth not at least making his position clear. 

He hated when Taylor was right. 

>> Fine  
>> I’ll do it. 

<< Tonight. 

>> Taylor! 

<< Tonight.  
<< Before you talk yourself out of it. 

>> Tonight

<< Awesome  
<< Text me after  
<< Good luck Sid, love you. 

>> Thanks. Love you too. 

***

They lost to the Storm and dropped just out of a playoff spot. It was going to come right down to the last game. 

***

Sid waited until they were back at the house and Geno was extracting his bags from Sid’s car to say anything. He stepped in close, took a deep breath, bumped his elbow against Geno’s and said, “Hey, can we talk?” 

Geno looked at him for a second, eyelids heavy and shoulders slumped. “Is late, Sid. Maybe tomorrow.” 

Or the day after, or the day after. Sid knew how this went. He’d been so patient. He’d been careful to give Geno his space, to not push him. But there wasn’t much space left, Taylor was right. In a week, Geno could be gone from his life forever without Sid even once letting him know how much he wanted him to stay. 

He couldn’t bear that. 

“Please, G?” 

Geno looked at the floor and Sid was sure he was going to say no, was going to push it, but then his great big shoulders slumped and he let out a long, defeated sigh. “Suppose we’re need talk.” 

“Yeah,” Sid agreed. Geno nodded and Sid turned to lead the way into his apartment. 

They wasted a few minutes with Sid making them drinks and the usual dance of taking off their shoes and coats and arranging themselves on the couch in the living room, but then there was nothing else left to do but talk. Geno was holding his cup, eyes downcast. He clearly wasn’t about to start a conversation. 

That left it up to Sid. 

He wished he hadn’t always been kind of terrible at actually talking about things. 

“I got a phone call this morning,” he blurted. Geno stiffened a little. 

“Good phone call?” 

Sid shrugged. “I mean, it was from my agent. He’s had this offer from a guy who I used to play with, he wants me back over in America next year so, I mean, I guess I don’t know.” He watched Geno’s face carefully. For a second there was a flicker of something, hurt or maybe despair, but then it was gone again and Geno’s face was carefully neutral. And shit, how hadn’t Sid caught this before. He’d been getting that neutral face for weeks and when he’d first met Geno, Geno had let everything he was feeling show on his face. Obviously Geno hadn’t been being honest with him. He was the worst. 

“Is good,” Geno said. “You’re go back, play America. I’m go play Russia. Is good. Everyone happy.” 

He didn’t look happy. Sid didn’t feel happy. 

Shit. 

Taylor was right, he really did need to say something. 

“I’m not happy.” 

“Sid?” Geno’s voice was low, almost pained. God, he didn’t want to do this. Geno was only going to reject him, to point out the millions of reasons they could never just be together like Sid wanted them to. 

“I love you.” 

“I’m know,” Geno said. He turned in his seat then, facing Sid fully, then reached out and grabbed Sid’s hands. “I’m know. Love you too.” 

Sid took a deep breath. He gripped Geno’s hands. He had to do this. He had to. However this turned out, he couldn’t just let the love of his life fade away. 

“I don’t want to go back to America. I want to be with you, wherever that is. Here, or in Russia, or wherever. I just want to be with you.” 

Geno’s eyes were wide, his hands limp in Sid’s. Shit. 

“I just love you, you know. More than I’ve ever loved anyone and I don’t know if I’m ever going to get to feel this again. Hockey, fuck, I love hockey and I’d love to play over in America or Canada but, even if I’m lucky, I only get that for a few more years. I want more than a few more years, Geno. I want something that’s going to last forever. I want you. I want to be with you forever.” 

“You’re only say because you’re worry about hockey,” Geno said, slowly, trying to work his way through what Sid was telling him. 

“No. No, I promise that’s not it. I just, I wasn’t going to say anything. I know this is crazy and, like, even when we got together I knew it was just for the season, that I don’t get to keep you. But this year, being with you, I’ve never felt like this before. I love you and I’d be an idiot if I walked away from this without even trying to tell you how I feel.” 

“Sid,” Geno said, his hand tightening. “You’re know I’m feel same way, right? Know I’m love you the most?” 

Sid nodded, though he wasn’t sure he did, not really. 

“Russia’s not a good place for love a man, Sid. There are stories, people who die because they love other men. Is not an easy thing.” 

“I know,” Sid insisted. “I know this is crazy. That’s why I didn’t tell you before. That’s why I wasn’t going to say anything, I shouldn’t have said anything. I just...” 

“If people know I’m gay, maybe I’m never go home again. It's not be safe there.” 

“I know,” Sid said and, fuck, he could feel the prick of tears in his eyes. He should have just stayed quiet. “I wouldn’t ask you to give up Russia, I know you love Russia.” 

“Miss it,” Geno agreed and fuck, his voice was thick like he was almost on the verge of tears too. “I’m not... I’m never feel like this either, Sid. I’m date girls, nice girls. Have good time. I’m love them a little, but never like this. I don’t... I’m love you.” 

“I love you too,” Sid said, as though if he could just say it enough, just say it in the right way, then Geno would stay with him. 

“But I’m have to go home.” 

“Of course you do.” 

“Have to think about family, about future. If I’m be with you, maybe I’m not see family ever again.” 

“I’m not asking you to come out with me. I’m just asking you to, to stay I guess. We could go to Coach and tell them I’ll stay but only if they sign you too. Hell, they’ll probably want to sign you even without us saying anything. And then we can play together and live like this and everything’ll be fine.” 

“Won’t, though,” Geno said, heaving a sigh. “Wish it could be like that, but we’re both know it can’t. If I’m stay, people ask why. People know you’re gay now. Maybe not everyone yet but such gossips. I’m sure all players know, soon some fans, then all fans. Then they think, maybe we too close.” 

“Shit,” Sid said, because he could definitely see that happening. 

“And maybe is only little rumour, but maybe even that enough. Can’t risk it, Sid.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Sid said, and he was crying now. Fuck, he hated this. Hated the way his chest ached right down to the bone, how he felt hollow, like his guts had been scooped out. He just wanted to pull away, to go and lock himself in his bedroom and hide but Geno was reclaiming one of his hands and reaching up to gently wipe away the tears which, obviously, only made Sid cry more. 

He hadn’t really cried in years but he couldn’t seem to stop it now. Geno reached out for him and it was easy to fold himself into Geno’s arms, to press his face to Geno’s shoulder and cling, even though he knew Geno wasn’t going to stay, that there was no hope. 

And Geno just held him. He squeezed Sid tight, almost like he didn’t want to let go either. He whispered reassuring nonsense into Sid’s ear, all of it in Russian but somehow just the sound of it helped. He kissed Sid gently, his cheek, his neck, until Sid turned and kissed him back, so gently. 

They didn’t say anything else, just stumbled together into the bedroom. The sex that night was slow, tender, heavy with everything they’d said and all the reasons they knew they might never have this again. Sid tried to make every kiss, every touch, a declaration of love, a promise of how good it would be if Geno would only stay with him, would only be with him. 

He fell asleep with his head on Geno’s shoulder.


	33. Sunday 31st March 2019

Sunday 31st March 2019 (home vrs Storm)

Sid started the last day of the regular season with a sensible breakfast and a long run. It was against the Storm, because of course it was. They’d managed to pull out a win the night before so it really all came down to this. A win now and he got one more week of hockey, maybe even two. A loss, even in overtime, and they weren’t going through. 

When he got back from his run, Geno was slumping around the kitchen and indulging in his own game day ritual of drinking too much coffee and forgetting how to speak English. Sid interrupted him long enough for a kiss then headed to the shower. 

If they won, he’d get Geno for one more week at least. It’d been good, since they’re talk. They were very carefully not talking to each other about anything actually important but Geno had followed him home every night, curled up in his bed and kissed him like the world was ending. They’d not even had this much sex when they were just starting to hook up, not that Sid was complaining. 

By the time he’d finished showering, Geno was at least at the speaking English stage. 

“Hey,” he said, poking around Sid’s fridge. “No eggs?” 

“Shit, I had the last of them this morning. I didn’t think... let me run down the shops. I’ll get you some.” 

“No, is fine,” Geno said, waving his hand. “I’m go. You’re have pre-game ritual, is most important.” 

Sid felt like he should argue. He was, technically, the host here. Of course he should be the one to make sure Geno was fed. He should have thought about it before he finished the eggs, should have thought about it yesterday... 

“Sid,” Geno said, stepping in close. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Geno ducked in and kissed him. Sid closed his eyes, brought his hands up to grab as Geno’s t-shirt. Fuck, he just wanted this forever. He just wanted this to not be over. 

When Geno pulled back, he smiled. Then he leant in and pressed a gentle kiss to Sid’s forehead. 

“I’m love you.” 

“Love you too.” 

“Go do ritual, Sid. I’m get eggs. Then we’re beat Storm, go to playoffs. I’m not ready for season to be over yet. ” 

“Yeah, let’s do that.” 

***

The rink was packed. Down in the tunnel, they could already hear the roar of the crowd. It was a million miles from how it’d been at the start of the season. The team started to file out past him and Sid offered his fist for them to bump. They all looked determined, but pumped up, which was another change. They were feeling good, Sid could see it on them, and he felt it too. He could feel the energy of the team, the energy of the crowd. 

They could do this. 

Callum came out of the locker room. He was grinning, full of that enthusiasm he’d had at the start of the season, the spark that’d carried them to their first few wins. Sid reached out and hooked an arm around the kid’s neck. 

“You’re gonna score a goal today, I can feel it.” 

“I hope so,” Callum grinned. “You just get me the puck, Captain.” 

“Sure,” Sid said, giving him one last squeeze. To his surprise, Callum lent in and hugged him, the tightest hug he could manage through hockey pads. Sid hugged him back, squeezing him tight. He loved this kid. He loved this club. He wanted to stay. He wanted them all to stay. 

Then Callum was pulling back, heading down the tunnel, and Sid held up his hand for the next fist bump. They had a game to win. 

***

It had been a scrappy game. Geno was in the box because he could never quite resist causing trouble, but two of the storm guys were sitting so Liverpool had the man advantage. The score was 1-1, there were just over four minutes on the clock. The puck dropped. Sid hooked it back to Callum then skated down the wing, a Storm player trailing after him. He turned and receive the puck then passed it on. Callum was down by the net but they had him screened. Sid pulled back, tried to find a space. Then he saw it, just as the puck was heading his way. He snagged it, settled it, and sent it flying across the goal, through that gap, to Callum who chipped it in up behind the goalie. 

The goal horn sounded. The red light behind the goal was flashing and Sid was screaming, Callum crashing into his side. Then the other guys crashed into them, pushing Sid back against the ice and he didn’t even care. For the first time in the game, they were actually in the lead. 

He headed back to the bench and let another line cycle out. Callum came to claim the seat next to him, grinning and elbowing him. 

“Thanks for the game winner, Captain.” 

“We’ve not won yet,” Sid reminded him.

The puck dropped and the Storm took possession. Sid gripped the bench. They tore away with it, passed it about but the defence was too good. Ginn came out of the Storm goal and headed for the bench and Sid bit his lip. The last Storm player was let out of the box and, for a second, they were six on four, then Geno was out and skating down to the goal, tying up a Storm player just in time and stealing the puck, then tearing back up the ice. The crowd were roaring. Sid jumped to his feet, his breath caught in his throat. 

Geno buried the puck in the empty net. 

Sid screamed. He turned and yanked Callum into a hug, then fist bumped the other guys on the bench. They were all screaming. It was over, it had to be. The Storm wouldn’t be able to pull two back in about three minutes. 

They were through. They were going to the playoffs. 

***

As a rule, the guys avoided the pubs near the arena where the fans drank. That Sunday, they washed and dressed, all shouting over each other, all screaming and cheering and not quite ready yet to believe that they’d made it, and stumbled out and into the nearest pub. 

The roar when Sid pushed open the door was deafening. He couldn’t wipe the grin off his face as fan after fan came over, wanting to pat him on the back, to offer him a drink, to share a little of what they’d felt up in the stands when the puck had hit the back of the net and they all knew they’d made it, that for the first time in a very long time they’d be watching playoff hockey. 

Of course, as the lowest seed they’d be playing the top seed, Belfast. Sid didn’t let himself think about that, though. They’d made it. They’d played and they’d sweat and bled and they’d bought themselves and the fans a quarter final place. 

He soon lost track of the other members of the team, letting the crowd pull him in and along. Geno was in fine form and ended up sat by the bar, holding court as he sipped the one beer coach had reminded them to stick to and relived his empty net goal over and over. Callum was being swarmed by a group of guys he apparently used to play with, Paul hanging onto his arm. Eddy was settled in a booth with some of the older guys, talking animatedly. Sid, for once, let himself be pulled along, let himself be drunk on the atmosphere. It felt like everyone wanted a piece of him, like he’s just won the Stanley Cup. People laughed at his lame dad jokes, women giggled and flirted, some guys giggled and flirted too. He signed shirts, coasters, he even held someone’s baby for a while. 

At some point, the party spilled out onto the street and he broke away from the crowd long enough to do the rounds of his team. There were all behaving which was good. Being with the fans after a game was great but being drunk and messy with the fans was less great. He tracked them all down one by one and checked in, made sure they were having fun. 

It took him a while to be sure he couldn’t find Geno. 

He didn’t want to ruin the party for anyone else so he let himself out into the street and called Geno’s phone but he just got an engaged tone, which was fine. It meant Geno had probably slipped out to make a call, which was fine. Sid went back in and tried to circulate but Geno’s absence kept pulling at him. He went out after a while to call again and, this time, the line was clear but Geno didn’t pick up. 

He was genuinely starting to worry. He hoped he hadn’t done anything wrong, anything to upset Geno. He didn’t think he had but sometimes it was hard to tell...

The staff were making pointed noises about closing time by then so it was easy enough to beg off and head to his car. The other guys were peeling off too, most of them headed further into town for clubs where they could actually drink without the fans being right there. Sid made Callum promise he’d call if Geno showed up before going and climbing in his own car. He tried Geno again, still nothing. He waited for a few minutes but Geno didn’t appear, looking for a lift, and eventually Sid gave up and drove home. 

Coming into the house, he quickly realised he wasn’t alone but he relaxed when he saw Geno there, hunched over on the couch. It took a second longer to realise Geno was crying. 

“Oh,” he said, taking a quick step forward. “Hey, what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Geno said, wiping at his eyes, They were already red and puffy enough that he didn’t have much chance of hiding that he’d been crying. 

“I was looking for you in the pub, you vanished.” 

“Sorry.” 

“You don’t have to be sorry.” Sid shuffled forward, coming to a stop next to the couch. “Just tell me what’s wrong?” 

“Is nothing. I mean, I’m just... I’m love you.” 

“Yeah,” Sid said, slowly. “I mean, I know and I love you too?” 

“I’m just, we’re win and is such big win and I’m feel so good then I’m look at you, you’re talking, holding baby, laughing, and I’m think, yes. Yes, I want you. Want you so much, Sid. I’m think I can walk away, can go live in Russia and have good life but when I’m look at you I’m think, maybe I’m not want Russia if go to Russia means I’m give up this.

“Geno,” Sid said, his voice rising. “What did you do?” 

Geno shuck his head then sighed. He reached out and Sid took his hand, let himself be tugged down onto the couch, close enough that Geno could reach over and cup his face, stare into his eyes. 

“I’m call Mama. I’m tell her, tell her everything. That I’m in love, that you’re beautiful man, so kind and strong and that I’m want to spend my life with you, that I’m not want to hide.” 

“You told your mom?” Sid repeated, his stomach rolling. He hadn’t imagined that Geno would even think about doing something like that. “What did she say?” 

“She’s cry, of course. Say this is big danger, but also that she’s happy for me. That she’s glad I’m find someone for love.” 

“Oh,” Sid said, the breath going out of him. “I’m glad.” 

“I’m think, if she know, then maybe she’s hate,” Geno admitted, his voice dropping. “I’m think maybe this it, I’m not have mama. Now, I’m know is going to be okay. Maybe things are bad with Russia and maybe I’m not go home but Mama loves me, Mama understands.”

“Geno...” Sid said, not quite willing to let himself take what Geno was saying to its full conclusion. 

“I’m love you, Sid.” 

“I love you too.” 

“I’m want to be with you, to stay with you. If you’re want me.” 

“G,” Sid said, the words sticking in his throat. “You shouldn’t be making this decision now. We just won. You’re just feeling... please don’t make me any promises that you’re going to regret tomorrow.” 

“Oh Sid,” Geno said, then he leant in and kissed him. The kiss was soft and tender and so, so familiar. Sid wanted him to never stop. He couldn’t believe that maybe Geno would never stop. 

“G...” 

“I’m stay with you. I’m promise now, promise tomorrow, promise every day. I’m not know how yet, will be many big problem, but I’m stay.” 

“Thank you,” Sid said, then he leant in to kiss Geno again and let himself believe.


	34. Saturday 6th April 2019

Saturday 6th April 2019 (home vrs Giants)

“Are you sure you want to do this?” 

“Yes, Sid. Most sure.” 

Sid nodded. It wasn’t like he could complain, this had all been his idea, but suddenly it felt like a lot. He looked around his bedroom, now their bedroom. All Geno’s things had been moved in, properly this time, not piece by piece like they had been before. There was Geno’s ipad on the bedside table and his dirty socks mixed in with Sid’s. Sid had been kind of amazed by how much stuff they’d both managed to get in the year they’d been living in England and how many pairs of truly ugly track pants Geno owned but they found a place for everything in the end. 

There was a knock on the door. 

“Well, good,” Sid said. “Last chance.” 

“Am sure, Sid. I’m tell you, I’m make choice.” And when Geno made a choice, he went hard for that choice. Sid was getting that now. He sighed then leant in to give Geno a quick kiss before heading to the door. Geno trailed behind him, diverting to flop on the couch, now covered with his throw blankets and cushions, and Sid couldn’t help but smile. 

Callum and Paul were on the doorstep. They had their arms wrapped around each other and it was really cute. 

“Hey, Sid,” Paul beamed. “It’s been ages.” 

“To long,” Sid agreed. “Come on in.” 

“Thanks,” Callum said, shuffling through the door. Sid made room for them, took their coats, and let them say hello to Geno. He caught Paul giving him a suspicious look but only shrugged, this was Geno’s show right now. 

“So,” Geno said. “I’m have something to say, think you’re like.” 

“Yeah?” Callum said. He moved to perch on the edge of the couch and Paul crowded in beside him, leaving Sid to the chair. He sat on it happily, leaning back and letting Geno do his thing. 

“Yes. Am talk to staff and they’re agree, want you to have my flat.” 

“Oh, awesome,” Callum said, grinning. “Thanks, G. Though I guess that means you’re probably not coming back next year.” 

“Not know that yet,” Geno said, slowly. They’d been to talk to the coaches the day before and ended up with the owner being skyped in. They’d just told them everything. It probably wasn’t shrewd negotiation but Sid didn’t really care at that point. He’d sat in a room with Geno holding his hand and had listened to Geno say he wanted him, that he wanted him enough to fight for it 

“So... where are you gonna live?” 

Paul was watching Sid. He’d clearly worked out what was going on but, then, he’d always been the smarter one. Geno raised an eyebrow and looked around. Sid got his plan now, he was going to let them work it out for themselves. Callum frowned. 

“Here? Sid’s moving out? Did you get a better place, Sid?” 

Sid laughed, he couldn’t help it. Geno looked kind of wounded that his master plan wasn’t working out like he’d wanted it to. 

“No, Callum. I’m not moving out.” 

“Then...” 

Geno sighed and heaved himself up off the couch. Phase two in showing so he didn’t have to say the words was apparently in motion. Sid waited as Geno moved around the coffee table then came to lean on the back of his chair. He dropped a hand down casually to tangle in Sid’s hair and it felt possessive. Sid grinned. 

“Sid’s live here,” Geno said. “I’m live here.” 

“Oh,” Callum said, a look of understanding crossing his face. 

“Congrats,” Paul said, and he was genuinely smiling. “The two of you seem good together.” 

“Best,” Geno agreed, then he leant over the back of the chair to kiss Sid’s cheek, which was definitely the most physically affectionate he’d ever been with a guy in public. Sid grinned. 

“So, like,” Callum said, slowly, “Does this mean you’re moving in with Sid now?” 

“Moved in,” Geno nodded. 

“Babe, didn’t you notice all his stuff around the place?” 

Callum blinked and looked around, blushing a little as he spotted the pile of Russian language films next to the TV, the cushions and blankets that hadn’t been there before, the tiny wire alien and predator statues Geno’d been so proud to pick up from a stall at the Christmas market. 

“I guess I just thought that Sid had finally got round to decorating?” 

“I love you,” Paul said, deeply long suffering, and Sid couldn’t help but laugh. 

“So, like, we can move in now?” 

“Sure,” Geno said. He pulled the keys out of his pocket and tossed them in the air. Callum nearly hurt himself diving for them. “But make sure you’re quiet. I’m leave rug under bed, don’t move it.” 

“We won’t,” Paul promised, standing up. “We’ll just...” 

“Oh, don’t mind us,” Sid said, waving. “Go take a look around.” 

“Yes please,” Callum said, and then both of them almost ran out of the door. A second later, their footsteps went pounding up the stairs. Sid sighed, he was kind of regretting it already. 

“I think we should have kept the upstairs apartment.” 

“Maybe,” Geno shrugged. “Better memories here.” 

Which was true. Sid stood up then pulled Geno into a kiss. Geno smiled against his lips, They’d requested a house for the new season anyway so, if Callum and Paul were unbearable, at least they’d only be living with them for a little while. 

“Hey,” Geno said, crowding in his space. “Want make one more memory?” 

“I want to make a million more,” Sid said, grinning. Geno laughed then leant in to kiss him and Sid returned the kiss, winding his arms around Geno’s neck and letting himself be steered towards the bedroom. 

Being relaxed for the game was important, after all. 

***

The thing was, the Belfast Giants were really good. 

They’d lifted the challenge cup. They’d won the league, snatching it at the last second from the defending Cardiff Devils. They and the Devils were so far out in front that is felt like the league was split in two. There was zero expectations, zero hope for a win. 

And, even if they did manage to come out on top, they were playing two games back to back and the team with the highest score on aggregate went through, so they’d probably be beaten the next night in Belfast anyway. 

Sid told himself all that as the game wound down, the score 5-3 to the Giants. He told himself that as the crowd still cheered, keeping the energy up even though it was obvious they were going to lose. He told himself that even as they sat in the locker room, coach telling them they’d fought and done their best and they just had to take it to the team the next day in Belfast. 

He told himself as he lay in bed that night, Geno curled around him, that it was okay. They’d never really expected to make it this far, anything else was a blessing. 

He just kept telling himself that.


	35. Sunday 7th April 2019

Sunday 7th April 2019 (away vrs Giants) 

They skated in Liverpool early in the morning before flying over and Sid knew most of the team had already given up. He skated around, listening to them talk about their plans for the off-season or where they were hoping to play in the next year and his heart just kept sinking and sinking. Even Geno seemed to not be taking things seriously, giving him a weird look when Sid came over and tried to make him actually work at some drills. 

“Sid,” he said. “You know season’s nearly over, yes? Maybe is time for relax.” 

“It doesn’t have to be over. We could still go through.” 

“Two goal deficit.” 

“Teams have come back from worse.” 

“They’re best team in league, Sid. If we beat them, be biggest upset this year.” 

“Yeah, but there’s no reason not to try. I just really want to do something here, you know? We were doing so well at the start of the season, we really looked like we might be contenders. Then everything fell apart. We can beat the Giants, I know we can. It’s not going to be an easy game, but we can win it. I just don’t know how to get these guys to realise we can, to know how much I believe in them.” 

Geno listened to all of that, head tilted to the side. Then when Sid had finished he laughed and leant in close enough to whisper in Sid’s ear. “Cute when you’re being Captain.” 

“I’m not cute,” Sid replied, but Geno was already pulling away. He lifted his stick and banged it on the ice until everyone was looking over. 

“All come here, Captain got something to say.” 

Sid glared at Geno. If he’d wanted to have a team meeting, he’d have called it himself. Still, the guys were skating over, the coaching staff were watching, not stopping them. He’d have to think of something to say. His enthusiasm might win Geno over but Geno was easy for him. 

“So, we’re heading into a tough game tonight,” he said. A few of the guys snorted. “I’m not denying that. The Giants are the kind of team who are used to winning, and they’re going to be looking to dominate tonight, but that’s not new to us. We’ve been here before. When I joined this team, every game was like that. Every opponent we came up against thought we were going to lose and, you know what, we thought that too. 

“Then something happened. We started to believe. We worked hard, we played to the system, and we started to show them what we’re really made of. We started to win. I don’t know about you guys, but I was so proud when I got to celebrate here in front of the fans, when I got to show them that we were taking hockey seriously, that we were going to make a difference. 

“I know this season maybe hasn’t fallen out like a lot of you would have dreamed about. We’ve had some ups and downs. But we’ve fought. Every step of the way, we’ve fought. 

“I see you here now, and you’re already on your off-season. You’ve already given up. I want you to know you don’t have to. It’s not an easy game we’re playing today, even if we fight our hardest we might lose, but I want to end our season with pride. I want to be able to look in the eyes of our fans and let them know that we fought for them. That, even if we lost, we never stopped fighting.” 

The crowd around him had grown silent, but at that Callum started to clap. It took a few seconds but then the others joined in until the entire circle of hockey players were clapping. At his shoulder, Geno bumped him lightly. 

“Best Captain.” 

Sid snorted. “I do my best.” 

“Most modest too.” Then he pushed off, skating away a little. “Come on, guys. Time for real work, real practice. Got to work hard if we’re go to playoff finals.” 

Sid watched as the guys broke up, actually moving to skate like they meant it, like there was still hope. 

He still had hope, at least. 

***

The Giants scoring in the first three minutes, making the deficit three goals on aggregate, might have been enough to bury them if Geno hadn’t wheeled around and scored just thirty seconds later, a beauty of a goal nobody had expected. 

Belfast scored, Sid scored. They moved to the second period and Sid scored again, bringing the deficit down to a single goal. The Giant scored, taking back the one goal lead, then shut down, fighting just to keep them away from the net. The clock ticked down. Three Minutes. Two Minutes. 

Sid equalised. 

The rush of blood as he did was amazing. He felt like he could feel the crowd cheering inside him. He felt like he could just pull Geno down and kiss him right there on centre ice. 

They went to overtime. 

When the goal came, nobody was expecting it. The Giants had possession and were passing the puck around, looking for an opening, when one of them fumbled the puck. Sid was just close enough to grab it and went tearing down the ice on the breakaway. The crowd were screaming. The goalie was coming up fast. He shot; deflected. Then, before he could react, Geno was streaking if, scooping up the deflected puck and it was in the back of the net. 

Gloves and sticks went flying like they’d actually won the title and Sid couldn’t stop screaming as Geno crashed into his side. They’d done it. Somehow, they’d made up the deficit. 

They were going to the playoff finals weekend. 

***

“Sid,” Geno screamed into his face. The club was crowded, bodies pushing up against each other. They should all be sleeping but, when the plane had landed, they’d been too wired to even think about it so instead they’d headed straight to town, to bars and trays of shots and the relentless pounding of the music. “Best.” 

“No,” Sid said, swaying. “You’re the best.” 

“We’re best,” Geno agreed, apparently satisfied with that. “Come.” 

Sid laughed and let himself be pulled. Geno’s English always took a hit when he was too excited or too drunk so, right now, there wasn’t much chance of understanding anything he was saying. Sid let himself be pulled along out of the club. Nobody was watching, nobody saw the way Geno’s fingers laced with his. Nobody watched as Geno dragged him down a side street and pushed him up against the wall, as he leant in and started kissing’s Sid’s neck, making Sid gasp. They stood there for a while, necking like teenagers, lost to the world, until finally Geno pulled back, lips kiss swollen and eyes wide. 

“Sid,” he said again, his tone reverent, and Sid wanted to just stay in this moment forever. 

“Take me home.” 

“Yes,” Geno agreed. He reached out for Sid and Sid followed.


	36. Saturday 13th April 2019

Saturday 13th April 2019 (Playoff finals weekend vrs Flames) 

Sid had heard a lot about playoff finals weekend since coming to the UK, but somehow it hadn’t prepared him. He stood on centre ice at the motopoint arena and the crowd was on fire. The entire place was full to the rafters, fans of every team arranged in blocks around the arena. He spotted plenty of red for the Devils, orange for the Steelers and gold for the Panthers but all the other teams were there, screaming as the announcer called their names one by one. The Glasgow Clan were particularly visible since they’d apparently decided to turn their block into a pride flag. They were holding up stripes of colour all across the block then, at the bottom, a banner. #Hockeyisforeveryone. 

The Liverpool Liver section was smaller, though no less vocal. Of course, none of their fans had actually expected them to make the playoff finals weekend. Some had bought tickets anyway, happy to just enjoy a weekend of hockey, but there’d been a mad scramble when they’d actually made it, people trading and bartering for tickets so Liver fans were squeezed in every corner of the arena, screaming for them. 

He caught Callum’s eye and grinned as the crowd rose for the national anthem. Across from them, the Guildford Flames looked almost as dazed. It was their first time too. Whatever happened, it was going to be interesting. 

***

The Flames took the lead in the middle of the first period and clung on to it. They had chances, a vocal section of the crowd were behind them, but somehow they couldn’t find the back of the net. They ended the first down and they held the second scoreless so it all came down to the third. 

It was looking dicey. There were chances at both ends. Both goalies were playing like this was the final. Sid kept making shot after shot but none of them were finding the back of the net. 

Then, he found himself grabbing a turnover in the neutral zone and tearing down the ice. It was the end of the shift and his legs ached. He felt every second he’d played that season pressing down on him. Sweat was running down his back, through his hair. He needed to breathe. He needed to dump the puck and make a change. 

But then Callum was streaking down the ice, outpacing the Guildford players who’d obviously been expecting Sid to dump the puck too. All Sid had to do was wind the puck up and let it go and Callum was there, the puck deflecting off his blade and right up over the Guildford nettie’s shoulder. 

The crowd roared. The lights flashed. Sid crashed into Callum, panting and shaking. They were still in this thing. 

Sid went back to the bench, bumping the guys fists then getting the hell off the ice. Coach patted his back and play resumed. 

Geno’s line was out with Eddy. Sid grabbed his water and closed his eyes for a second, squirting some in his face to try and cool down and there was a roar. When he opened his eyes again, the goal light was flashing. Geno looked like a mad man, wheeling round the ice, the rest of his line trailing after until they caught him, squashing him into the boards. 

Sid looked up at the jumbotron. They’d taken the lead. 

Guildford challenged the goal, of course they did. While the refs were talking, Geno skated over to the bench, grinning, and grabbed his water. Sid reached forward, getting hold of Geno’s arm. “Is the goal good?” 

“Was best.” 

“G...” 

“Trust, Sid. Is good goal.” 

He flashed Sid a confident smile that made Sid’s heart flutter and his dick twitch then skated away down the ice again. A second later, he was vindicated. The goal was good. 

Guildford called a time out. They rallied. They dominated the rest of the game, keeping Liverpool on the defence, but they never did manage to find another goal and when the buzzer went, Sid threw himself out on the ice, the rest of the team following him, their screams echoing the screams of the fans. 

They’d done it. Somehow, they’d done it. They were in the playoff finals! 

***

The group who spilled back into the hotel were exhausted but full of adrenaline. They kept shouting or laughing randomly, none of them quite able to believe that, after they season they’d had, they’d actually done it. They’d actually made the final. They were one game away from lifting silverware. 

Not that any of them really expected that, but then they hadn’t expected to make it this far. Even when they’d won the semi-final, they’d all talked quietly about how they’d probably fall to Guildford and end up playing in the third place game on Sunday morning. 

Now they were going to the final. 

Most of the guys headed straight for the bar. A few talked about naps. Sid caught Geno’s eye and nodded. Geno grinned. 

Since management knew about them, this time their room had one double bed. Sid fell back on it and waited for Geno to catch up, he'd hung back a little when Sid had left for the room. All of thirty seconds later Geno was pushing through the door and letting it slam shut behind him. He was half way naked by the time he reached the bed and Sid laughed. 

“You’re confident.” 

“Yes,” Geno agreed. “I’m score game winner, you’re not see?” 

He hadn’t, but he didn’t want to admit that to Geno. “It was a beauty of a goal.” 

“Yes,” Geno said, climbing up onto the bed. “I’m think, goal so good, you’re should give me reward.” 

“Oh really?” Sid said, eyebrow raised. “What kind of reward do you think you deserve?” 

Geno was apparently done talking, though. He lent in and kissed Sid, long and hard and meaningful and Sid grinned into it, wrapping his arms around Geno as though he could somehow pull him even closer, pull them inside of each other. Geno let his full weight fall down on Sid, pinning him to the mattress which was so much. 

Sid loved it. 

He managed to get his hands on Geno’s ass, which was always amazing. Geno was so fucking responsive to having his ass groped, he groaned into Sid’s mouth and moved, his half-hard dick dragging against Sid in a way that made him hiss. 

He needed Geno. He needed Geno to fuck him right down into the mattress, to fuck the tired right out of him until all that was left was euphoria. 

Someone knocked on the door. 

Geno froze, eyes darting away. Sid waited, breath held. 

The knock came again. 

“Go away,” Geno shouted. “Take nap, most important.” 

“Guys?” It was Callum. “I know you’re... I wouldn’t normally interrupt, but I think you’re gonna want to see this.” 

“Can’t it wait?” Sid asked. 

“Not really.” 

They looked at each other, Geno raised an eyebrow and, with a put-upon sigh, rolled himself away. Sid sat up, quickly straightening himself out. Just because Callum knew about them didn’t mean he wanted the kid to actually see him when he’d just rolled out of bed. 

Geno was busy retrieving his shirt so Sid went over and pulled open the door. Callum actually looked genuinely contrite when he held his phone out and Sid sighed, he knew the kid thought this was important but-

His brain short circuited. He reached out and took the phone. 

It wasn’t a flattering angle, but it was clearly them. He was pushed up against the wall and he remembered that wall, remembered the feeling that he’d just won the Stanley cup, remembered spilling out into the streets of Liverpool and about how he’d felt invulnerable. He remembered hands grabbing, the press of Geno’s body. 

He didn’t know anyone had seen. 

Geno appeared over his shoulder and Sid felt the moment when he realised what he was looking at. Geno might have just gotten away with it, the angle partially obscured his face, but he was wearing a t-shirt with his own name and number printed all over it that a fan had given him. 

“Callum-“ 

“A Giants fan posted it. No comment, just the picture and, well. It’s out now. I mean, you’re...” 

He didn’t finish. Sid reached behind him to grab Geno’s hand and Geno was shaking. Fuck. 

“Callum, go,” Sid said. “Go find the other and, I don’t know, distract them. You can tell them whatever you need to. We just need a minute.” 

“Yeah. Yeah,” Callum said, stepping back out of the door. Sid closed and locked it behind him then turned. 

Geno was pacing the room. He didn’t say anything, didn’t meet Sid’s eyes, but his shoulders were tense and his hands kept forming fists. Sid got it, he’d be pretty happy to punch someone right now too. 

He needed to call his agent. He needed to call his Mom. 

Geno stopped in the corner and pressed his forehead against the wall. He took some deep, deep breaths, clearly trying to keep himself together. Sid watched, still frozen in place, still trying to get his head around what had happened. 

He wondered if they could deny it, if they could just say it was a misunderstanding, that they were drunk. 

Geno looked over and finally met his eye and all Sid wanted to do was go over there and hold him so he did. Geno let him, clinging to Sid, digging fingers into Sid’s shoulders like he wanted to anchor him there, to stop him ever leaving. 

Like there was any chance of Sid leaving. 

They stood like that for a while; pressed against each other and trying not to panic. Geno was the first to break the silence. 

“Sid,” he said. He sounded ripped right open. 

“Yeah.” 

“I don’t...” 

He didn’t finish the thought but he tightened his arms, pulling Sid impossibly closer. Sid sighed. 

“I love you.” 

“Love you too,” Geno said, immediately. “I know this maybe happen but... fuck.” 

“Fuck,” Sid agreed. “I didn’t, I mean, I know we talked about it but we’ve been so careful. I thought we were being careful.” 

“Not careful enough,” Geno said, but he softened it a little by leaning down to kiss Sid’s forehead. “I’m need call agent.” 

“Yeah,” Sid agreed. “I guess I’d better. And my family.” 

“Yes,” Geno agreed, his face falling. 

“Shit,” Sid sighed. He didn’t want to do that. He wanted to scream. He wanted to drag Geno back into bed and fuck him and pretend that none of this was happening, but he knew that’d only hurt more in the end. He pulled back reluctantly and retreated to the desk, taking out his phone and dialling. 

His agent was understanding, he talked about press releases and you can play and Sid nodded along like he really understood. His mother cried. His dad listened then passed the phone back and didn’t come on the line again. Sid got it. He’d never even come out to them, though he knew they’d suspected. Taylor, she was better. She just told him she loved him over and over until he felt like he could breathe again then made him promise to call her back the next day to check in. 

When he finished, he had a string of messages from Callum. Apparently the rest of the team were in the bar downstairs. They wanted to see them. Wanted to be there for them. 

Geno was sat in the middle of the bed, his legs drawn up to his chest, staring down between his own knees. He didn’t look like he was ready for company. 

But, then, he didn’t have a Taylor to call, someone who could promise him they were still going to stand by him and love him and that he wasn’t losing his entire family. 

He just had Sid. 

Sid dropped his phone on the table and went across to the bed. It took some manoeuvring but he got Geno laid down and then he spooned up behind him, which wasn’t easy as Geno was much bigger than him but he made it work. Geno reached back and took his hand but didn’t say anything and Sid didn’t push him, instead he just whispered “I love you” over and over into the back of Geno’s neck until, slowly, some of the tension seemed to drain away. 

Then Geno’s shoulders started to shake as he gave in and cried. Sid didn’t move, he just kept his grip and kept up his promises to love Geno, to always love Geno, to never let him go, and Geno slowly sobbed himself to pieces in Sid's arms. 

It seemed to take forever for Geno to slowly pull away, to roll over and meet Sid’s eyes. His own were puffy and red, ruined by crying and Sid couldn’t help but lean in and kiss him. Geno returned it, resting a hand on Sid’s hip, and for a second they just lay there in the silence. 

“Sorry,” Geno said, eventually. 

“Hey, no. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” 

“Just, is so big, Sid. Feel like end of everything.” 

“Yeah,” Sid agreed. “But it’s not. I’m here. I know it’s not enough but.” 

“No, Sid,” Geno said, reaching up to stroke Sid’s hair. “Is everything.” 

Sid couldn’t help smiling at that, a fragile thing but it almost made Geno smile too. He sighed then and relaxed. This was terrible, it was going to be terrible for a while, but he saw the ghost of a smile on Geno’s face. He find a way to bring that smile out again. He’d make this work. 

“Hey,” he said. “You know it’s not just me, right? The team texted, they want to be with us.” 

“Really?” Geno said, and he did look a bit brighter at that. He rolled over and retrieved his phone. There were a lot more notifications than Sid ever had but he swiped them all away and found the group chat, read though all the guys saying they were with them, they’d like to see them when they were ready, they’d flatten anyone who tried to make a big deal out of this. 

Geno laughed at that last message, holding it out so Sid could see. 

“Maybe they’re need to flatten me, I’m make biggest deal.” 

“Hey, no. It is a big deal for us. He just-“ 

“I’m know what he’s mean, Sid. Is okay. Can... Am not sure I’m want to go to bar.” 

“We could invite them up here?” 

“You’re sure is okay?” 

“Yeah,” Sid promised, reaching over to squeeze Geno’s shoulder. “I’m sure.” 

Which was how they came to have the entire team squeezed into their hotel room. Geno had taken the time to wash his face, at least, so, though his eyes were still puffy and red, he looked more like he had it under control. The guys all took turns fist bumping or hugging him on the way in. Sid couldn’t help but notice that a few of the guys weren’t with the main group but he tried not to let them get to him and he certainly didn’t point it out to Geno. 

Callum took the longest, stopping in the doorway and hugging Geno really hard, like he meant it. He whispered something into Geno’s ear while he did and it earned him one of those kind of awkward half smiles that seemed to be the best Geno could manage at the moment. 

They started out talking about the photo, about how pissed they were, about how it had already spread, but Sid got them rather forcibly off that topic. With hockey players, subtlety was really just a waste of time and sometimes it was better just to tell them to drop it and to talk about the game instead. 

The game was a much safer topic, most of them were still on a high from the win and even Geno managed to contribute a few things, chirping a few of the guys and telling them about his goal like they hadn’t all been there with him. 

From there they diverted to the game they were going to have to play the next day. The Devils and the Panthers were on the ice as they spoke and they’d have to play the winner so that was a lot of speculation. Sid let it wash over him, settling in next to Geno, their shoulders pressing together. He was surprised when, after a while, Geno tentatively took his hand. But, of course, they could do that now. He smiled and let their joined hands sit between them on the bed, right where everyone could see. 

It felt good. It felt like acceptance. 

“Oh shit,” Callum said eventually, bolting up from his seat. “Team meal. The taxis are gonna be here soon, we’re gonna be late.” 

The other guys started grumbling and extracting themselves from whatever surface they’d found to sit on. They all made a point of circling by Geno and Sid one last time, patting them on the shoulder, then filing out of the room, shouting about lost wallets and phones and had anyone see his clean shirt? No, the one with the stripes. 

And they were alone with Callum. 

“Hey,” Callum said, stepping closer and leaning in to Sid’s side this time. “You guys coming?” 

Sid looked over at Geno. He didn’t seem to be in a fit state to go anywhere. Sid was glad they’d had the guys up, he thought it’d helped, but he didn’t think Geno’d survive dinner out. 

“Nah, not today. I mean, I think we just need some quiet time.” 

“No, Sid,” Geno said, stirring to life. “I’m... maybe I’m not go, but is okay, you go.” 

Sid snorted. “Yeah, no. Callum, you’d better go or you’ll miss the taxis. Tell the guys we’ll see them tomorrow.” 

“Sid.” 

“I’m not leaving you here alone.” 

“Should,” Geno said with the world’s most put-upon sigh. “Am not good company.” 

“Hey.” Sid reached over and grabbed Geno’s hand. “I didn’t sign up to just be around you when you’re good company, yeah? I don’t think you want to be alone tonight, I don’t want you to be alone, so I’m gonna stay with you.” He’d have followed it with an ‘I love you’ but it felt kind of weird to say it with Callum stood right there. 

“Won’t be fun.” 

“I’ve got news for you, G, you’re not always fun. You’re grumpy as hell in the morning and you have this knack for turning up just as I’m really engrossed in my studying and demanding I pay attention to you instead. You steal all the blankets and you never pick up after yourself. I’m not here for fun. I’m here because... because I love you.” 

He risked a glance at Callum. Callum was very pointedly ignoring them and looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. 

“Sid-“ 

“So we’re staying in. We’re going to order something we shouldn’t eat from room service and get crumbs in the covers then we’re going to put on your favourite movie and we’re gonna just be together, okay?” 

Geno paused for a long moment, his eyes downcast, then he nodded. “Yes.” 

“Good. Callum get lost.” 

“Going,” Callum said, relief evident in his voice, and they were alone. 

Once the door was shut, Geno deflated and Sid reached out, wrapping him in a hug again. He hated this, hated seeing Geno like this. He wished, desperately, that he could stop it all, spare Geno the pain of exposure, but he couldn’t. All he could do was be there. 

“Am sorry,” Geno said. 

“Don’t be. I love you.” 

“Even when I’m grump.” 

“Always. Come on, let’s get pyjamas on and I’ll find the room service menu.” 

They settled in but Coach arrived before the food. Sid left Geno in the room and went down to the bar with him, looking over the statement they’d put together and signing off on it. The team supported them, didn’t think it was an issue, you can play, hockey is for everyone, please respect their privacy etc. It was a good statement, but Sid felt like he hardly took it in. 

Back in the room, food had just arrived. They ate it pressed together then curled up in the sheets. Sid put Geno’s favourite movie on just for background noise and lay there with his eyes closed, listening to Geno breathing and trying to convince himself things were going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the Glasgow Clan really did turn their block into a pride flag. The Clan always seem to have the most fun at playoff finals weekend. We had a lot of fun pride times, the announcer kept calling out hockey is for everyone and there were a lot of rainbow outfits. I did my Lacho jersey up with pride tape, you can see it on my twitter (@signe_chan). Luckily, no hockey players were outed against their will at our playoff finals weekend. 
> 
>  


	37. Sunday 14th April 2019

Sunday 14th April 2019 (Playoff Finals Weekend vrs Cardiff) 

Sid came out of the shower to find Geno on the phone. He was speaking in Russian so Sid let him be, turning and going through his suitcase instead to dig out something he could go to team breakfast in. Geno was still talking when he was dressed so he took out his phone and caught up on the night before. 

The guys had all come back to the hotel at a sensible time. It looked like some of them had played cards for a while and one of the bedrooms had a movie playing but most guys had gone quiet, probably drifting back to their own rooms to sleep, at a reasonable hour. That was good. The Devils had come out in top on the other semi-final the night before so that meant they were the team to beat and the Liverpool Liver didn’t have the best track record when it came to the Cardiff Devils. 

Geno was still talking, looking a little tearful now, so Sid slid closer, close enough that Geno could reach for him if he needed to, and started checking all his other notifications. 

Luckily for him, Callum had apparently taken it upon himself to keep Sid updated. Their private chat was full of links to tweets, press releases, articles. The Liver statement had been released, the Elite league had made a similar one, most of the teams in the league had made similar statements and there was a general outpouring of support from other players and supporters across the league. 

He was pretty sure that, in reality, there was a lot more negativity than he was being shown here but, for once, he wasn’t annoyed at someone trying to protect him. 

The word had clearly gotten further than the Elite league as he had e-mails and texts from a bunch of guys he hadn’t spoken to in years telling him they supported him. Taylor had sent about a million rainbow hearts. He had a few e-mail from his agent, apparently you can play wanted to talk to them since they were, apparently, the first out hockey players. 

Geno finished his call. He sat there for a second, face blank, then turned and buried his head against Sid’s shoulder. Sid reached up to card fingers through his hair. 

“You okay?” 

“I’m think so,” Geno said. “Was mama.” 

“Oh?” 

“She’s want to make sure I’m know she’s love me. Is hard now, rumour already start in Russia, maybe not safe for me to go back, but she’s love me.” 

“Shit,” Sid said. He’d known that losing Russia was a real threat for Geno but to hear it confirmed like that. “I’m sorry, love.” 

“Is okay,” Geno said, squeezing him. “I mean, isn’t okay but, I’m make choice.” 

“Still, it fucking sucks.” 

“Yes,” Geno agreed. “Can’t be sad now, though. Got to play hockey.” 

“Are you sure? I mean, they could scratch you?” 

Geno sat up. He looked deeply offended at the very thought that someone might even consider scratching him. 

“Sid, is final. You’re think I’m not play in playoff final?” 

“No,” Sid said. “I didn’t... I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable. Being outed is big, it’s so fucking big, Geno. I know it’s going to take time before you’re okay.” 

“Yes,” Geno agreed. “Maybe I’m worst this summer, most boring, most sad, but I’m think about this a lot, Sid. I’m think about it all year, right from when I’m first meet you and realise I’m care so much for you.” 

“Oh,” Sid said. 

“Yes. Don’t want this, but I’m make my choice. Could have walk away. Could have never told you I’m like men. Could have never kiss you. Could have left you, go back to Russia. I’m not. Every time, I’m choose you. This is hard, scary, but I’m still choose you.” 

“Geno,” Sid said, his voice thick with the tears he was trying not to shed. Of course, when Geno put it like that, it made sense. It would have been so much easier for Geno to never be with him but he was. They were here together and for all the time that Geno had said he loved Sid, it had never really hit him like this before. Geno loved him. Geno had chosen him again and again and they were going to be together. They’d get through this together and they’d have a life, a future. 

“Last night, you’re say you’re stay with me even when I’m not fun. Well, I’m stay with you, too. I’m not let you walk out into world alone, I’m go with you. We’re go together, play together.” 

“Yeah,” Sid agreed. Them together against the world. 

He couldn’t resist pulling back a little then, kissing Geno. 

They were going to make it through this, together. 

They were late to team breakfast but they got a cheer when they arrived. People moved to make space for them to sit together. Luckily, the conversation was more about the game coming up then about them and it was easy to lose themselves in that. They’d sat near Eddy who’d played against the Devils more than anyone and had some things to say about the goalie, Ben Bowns. He was going to be tough to beat. 

All through the meal, Geno kept their legs pressed together under the table. It felt like a promise. 

After that, they lapsed into normal game day routine. Sid hit the gym for a while, had his normal sandwich for lunch, then talked Geno into a pre-game nap. Geno always needed a little persuading but it was more of a game than anything and soon they were lying curled together, sleeping. 

Then, before they knew it, they were at the arena. The dressing room was set out, they skated out to warm up. 

Sid could never have anticipated what he got. 

Clearly, the entire Elite League fanbase had been out and raided the entire city for anything rainbow coloured. You almost couldn’t tell the team block apart any more, it was a sea of rainbow. And, as they hit the ice, the crowd erupted. Normally warm up was quiet, people wandering in slowly, stopping to grab a beer. Today, the stands were already crowded. 

The fans had shown up for them. 

Sid couldn’t help grinning. 

Then he focused on getting warmed up. 

When they came out for the actual game it was louder. Somehow there were even more rainbows. The Glasgow block had their flag out again, the walls at the back of the arena were plastered with full sized rainbow flags, it was almost too much. 

They lined up while the anthem played then skated down to their goal. Sid took the chance to yell at them. “Focus,” he shouted. “We can beat them, just go out there and play hockey.” 

“Right,” a few of the guys agreed. They then did their thing and broke up. Most of them headed back to the bench, Sid’s line took the ice. 

The puck dropped. 

Looking back on it later, Sid would honestly be able to say that he’d never played better hockey in his life. The Devils should have dominated, they knew they’d be lucky to not be shut out. Bowns was the best goalie in the league and Cardiff’s defence knew just how to work around him. 

But, somehow, none of that mattered. The crowd were behind them and it was electric. He felt like he skated faster, reacted quicker, made passes that, the day before, he wouldn’t have been able to. It was a scrappy, physical game but Sid didn’t lose focus. He scored, then someone else scored and they ended the first 2-1 up. In the second, the bounces didn’t go their way and the Devils equalised then pulled ahead, 2-3. 

It all came down to the third. 

Sid’s second goal was a scrappy thing. They were on the powerplay and all crowded around the goal. The puck came off Bowns pads once, twice, it should have gotten free but somehow Sid caught it with the end of his stick and flicked it up and in. 

They were level again. 

The Devils answered back right away but, only a minute later, Callum got past Bowns to make it 4-4. 

The clock wound down and they were into overtime. 

They rested, they refuelled, and they headed back out onto the ice. 

“Hey,” Sid said, skating over to where Geno was getting ready. Coach had sent them both out to get overtime going. “We need to end this.” 

“Yes,” Geno agreed. They were going to play five on five hockey until someone won now. In the locker room the guys had been talking about the year before last when the game had gone into the third period of overtime before the Steelers managed to score and win it. Whatever energy they were drawing from the crowd was only going to last so long, they needed to end it. “You’re just go to net, I’m get you puck.” 

“You have a plan?” 

“You trust me?” Which meant no, but it didn’t really matter. 

“I trust you.” 

“Then go to net.” 

Callum took the faceoff. As soon as the puck dropped, Sid tore for the net. He paused at the blueline and glanced back. Geno had the puck and was coming down the side. He entered the zone and Sid took off again, right for the front of the net. He turned and Geno was there but he was too well covered. He couldn’t make the shot and the rest of the Devils were coming. 

He passed the puck. 

Sid turned, quickly, and the puck sailed right too him off Callum’s stick. Bowns was already moving but he was too slow, it only took a slight deflection from Sid and it was through the five hole and in the back of the net. 

Twenty-one seconds into overtime and the Liverpool Liver were the playoff champions. 

Gloves went flying, sticks littered the ice and Geno was pressing Sid into the boards, screaming in his ear in Russian. Callum was right there, then the other guys, packing in around them and screaming. The crowd was in uproar, none of them had expected this. They banged on the glass behind where Sid was pinned. Their fans started the chant, ‘We’re the Liverpool Liver’, and a good chunk of the arena joined in, always glad for an underdog story. 

They’d done it. They’d won. 

The awards ceremony passed in a blur. The officials and staff call came out onto the ice. He was handed a hat and a medal and then, incredibly, a cup. He’d never won a cup before, never even been close. He’d worked so hard, pushed himself every day, dedicated himself to this sport even when it meant denying himself and now here he stood on centre ice, a sea of rainbows around him, his lover beside him, holding up a cup. 

It was almost like a dream. 

They gathered around the block where their fans were congregating and took turns skating out and lifting the trophy for them. They screamed every time, chanted. Sid couldn’t stop grinning, couldn’t stop laughing. 

Through it all, Geno was right there at his elbow. Every time he looked over or reached out, there Geno was. 

That was almost a bigger feeling than the win. 

Eventually the fans were moved out and they were asked to go back to the locker room. Someone had already opened the champagne, of course, and Sid found himself standing with a bottle in hand, the guys coming up one at a time to hug him, pat him on the back and talk to him about that game winner. 

It took him a little too long to realise that Geno was gone. 

It didn’t take him long to find him, standing in the corridor with management, a piece of paper in his hand. He looked poleaxed and Sid hurried over to his side. 

“Hey,” he said. “Is everything okay?” 

Geno turned to him and held out the piece of paper. It looked like a contract. 

“I think we’ve blown his mind a little,” Coach said, grinning. 

“They’re offer me contract. I’m play here.” 

“Two years, same terms as this year. We thought, well, we were going to offer you a place anyway but after this performance, and after what happened yesterday, we just wanted to let you know that we’re not just talking the talk. We’re behind you. We want you back on this team, both of you. If you want it.” 

“I’m... I’m have to have agent look at contract.” 

“Yes, of course,” Coach agreed. “We’re not going to take back the offer, though. It’s yours.” 

Sid reached out and took the paper from Geno’s hand. 

Geno was going to have a contract. Geno was going to get to stay with him. 

Then Geno was turning to him, beaming, and fuck it, Sid had to kiss him. They’d won a cup together, they were going to get to stay here and play hockey together, he had to. 

Geno beat him to it, leaning in quickly and kissing Sid. Sid closed his eyes and let him. 

They were going to be great. 

***

That night, they walked out of the Arena together, trophy in Sid’s free hand. They went round to the bar at the front of the Arena where most of their fans were waiting and hoisted the cup for them again. They stayed until the early hours of the morning, drinking and laughing and partying. For once, nobody warned them about drinking with the fans. Nobody worried. They were all too happy. 

Geno didn’t let go of his hand the entire night. 

Sid knew the future wasn’t all going to be cups and hand holding. He knew some guys were going to be dicks, weren’t going to want to play with them. He knew the summer was going to be hard, once it really sunk in for Geno that he wasn’t going to get to go back to Russia. 

But they had that night, the one glorious night, with the cup and with their fans and without a single worry in the world. 

And then night, when he crawled into bed, Geno curled up behind him, kissed him tenderly and promised that he loved him. 

It was everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Devils fans, I stole your win. I had to, it was for the story. 
> 
> Yes, the final when we went into three lots of overtime and the Steelers won did happen. It wasn't fun times. Fuck the Steelers. In the real world, it was a Giants v. Devils final and the Devils won it by a hair. Real edge of your seat stuff. I was sat not far behind Bowns and when they won, they were defending so I got to see the gloves go flying and the celebration. It was good fun. I mean, I'd have prefered to see my team win but, eh. 
> 
> Also, we came so close to having real life Sid trying to get a puck past Ben Bowns at worlds, I nearly died! But then clearly Sid was too scared to face down Robert Farmer of the Nottingham Panthers so he's not coming this year XD Ah well, maybe some day.


	38. Epilogue - 24th March 2023

Epilogue   
24th March 2023 

“Hey,” Sid shouted, letting the door bang shut behind him. “Did you hear anything yet?” 

“Most impatient,” the reply came from the lounge. Sid shrugged out of his suit jacket and dropped his bag. “No, I’m not hear. Adoption agency say not to panic, can take long time.” 

“I know,” Sid grumbled. He did know that, it was just that waiting was hard. It’d taken them a long time to get this far and now they were all cleared and just sat waiting for a kid who needed a family, who needed their family. 

Geno appeared in the hallway. He was still dressed in his gear from the rink. Sid had never had a problem with being hot for coach but when the coach was Geno, well. 

“Have good day at school?” 

“High school kids are hell, remind me why I thought this would be a good idea again?” 

“You’re love them, are best teacher.” 

Sid snorted but Geno was still approaching so he let his husband pull him in for a kiss. It had been years and that still never got old. 

“What about your guys? Are you actually going to beat Fife?” 

“I’m hope so,” Geno said, his shoulders slumping a little. Assistant coach is harder job than I’m think. Nobody listen to me.” 

“Poor you,” Sid said, a complete lack of pity in his tone. Geno just rolled his eyes at him. 

“Is true. Even Callum not pay attention. Thinks because he’s got A now he can do what he want.” 

“Well, he was never very good at listening. We should have him and Paul over for dinner some time and you can complain to him about it.” 

“Maybe,” Geno said. “But not tonight. Tonight I’m not assistant coach, am Captain of Romance.” 

Sid laughed. “Really?” 

“Yes. I’m make dinner, set table, all nicest.” 

“Yeah, you’re the nicest,” Sid agreed. Geno reached for his hand and he let himself be led thought into the dining room where, yes, Geno had set the table. There were rose petals and everything and his heart felt as full as it had the first time Geno had done this, maybe more. He just really, really loved his husband. 

“Hey, are you going to still do this for me when we’ve got a kid.” 

“Of course,” Geno insisted. “Maybe not play hockey now but I’m still always Captain of Romance. Going to do now, when we’re have baby, when baby’s annoying teenager and we’re just complain about it all time, when baby’s all grown up and move out, when we’re old and can’t even skate any more. I’m always do.” 

“Yeah,” Sid said. He let Geno pull a chair out for him and sat down. “I really think you will.” 

“Good,” Geno said. “So maybe tonight we’re not think about baby, just think about me and you?” 

“I guess. Can we keep the phone on the table thought, just in case.” 

“Sure,” Geno agreed. “It’ll happen soon, Sid.” 

“Yeah, soon.” 

He couldn’t wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done! 
> 
> Sorry it took so long to get you the end. I have various excuses but they don't matter, I got it to you as quickly as I could. Thank you so much to everyone who's been on this journey with me, I hope you've enjoyed it.

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a long fic. My plan is to write this fic over the 18/19 hockey season and to follow the season as closely as I can, so what's actually happening in real life British hockey will form the basis of what's happening in this fic. This will only be my second full season following the Elite league so I might get things wrong, please be patient with me. I make no promises about update schedule as it'll depend on my schedule and what's going on in the league. Subscribe to the fic to get updates. 
> 
> I started writing this as I've noticed that Sid and Geno are always either at their current skill level or not playing at all so I thought it might be nice to investigate Sid and Geno who are still themselved in every other way (or as close as I can characterise them) but just mediocre at hockey. 
> 
> For people who don't know - the UK Elite league is currently an eleven team league. They play all over the UK. In the UK, the season is the big deal. It runs from September through March and winning that is realy the aim. There's also the Challenge Cup, which finishes around January, and the playoffs. The playoffs follow the season and teams are paired and play an home and away against their partner, the winner on agregate going through to the playoff final weekend where we do semi-finals on saturday, the two losers play each other on sunday which is the most pointless thing because there's no third place in a playoff them the final is played on the sunday afternoon. There are also three conferences and the team can come top of their conference. There is no Liverpool team in the real league. Liverpool doesn't actually have an ice rink which is one of the reasons I picked it. This team and everyone in it except Sid and Geno are fictional. 
> 
> For people who know - I'm placing the Liverpool Liver in the spot of the Edinburgh Capitals. They'll be in the Gardiner Conference just for ease to planning for me. When we have the full season schedule I'll work out the Liver's schedule and I'll include a little bit in each update about the state of the league and where the team are. I might do cameos from some EIHL people but I'm trying to keep this fic self-contained and the players and staff of the Livers will NOT be people you might know from around the league. Also, I'd love more Elite league fan friends. Hit me up at @panthersEmma for public hockey yelling or @signe_chan for private hockey yelling.
> 
> EDIT - The suicide attempt referenced in the tag is the characer Nick and happens in chapter 28, if you want to avoid. It's mentioned after that. It is unsucessful and he gets the help he needs, both from the health service, his family and the team. If that's something that might be upsetting to you, take care of yourself. There'll be other fic.


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